Fairfax's Restaurant

“One does not come to Park Slope for the fries. One comes for the fries at Fairfax's Restaurant. The distinction matters. The waffle fry is commendable and largely sustained without, and earnest and specific within. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. The portion is forthcoming. The distinction, once understood, becomes permanent. The experience is brief and exact, like most things worth having.”

“The waffle fry is, at its best, a meditation on patience. Fairfax's Restaurant understands this. The kitchen has chosen blended, which is either bold or obvious depending on one's position. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The interior potato character is earnest and specific. The structural integrity is beyond question; these fries have opinions about gravity and are prepared to defend them. One returns. A return visit is, at this point, a formality. One will perform it nonetheless.”

“One finds at Fairfax's Restaurant a waffle fry that has been attended to. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The potato flavor is earnest and specific. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. The portion is forthcoming. Attendance, as a form of culinary philosophy, is rarer than it should be. This guide recommends the fries and nothing else. This is sufficient.”

“One arrives skeptical at Fairfax's Restaurant. One departs converted. The waffle fry is responsible for both. The exterior is commendable and largely sustained. The interior presents a potato earnest and specific. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. Skepticism, as a protective measure, has its limits. This guide has reached them. The fry asks only to be appreciated. At Fairfax's Restaurant, one appreciates.”