Alright, let’s talk about HatHats in Folkestone’s Radnor Park—where coffee dreams come true and flat whites are basically sent from the heavens.
Picture this: I stroll in, unassuming, ready for a caffeine hit, and BOOM—Mel, the wizard behind the counter, flashes a knowing smile like she already understands my soul. She works the coffee machine like it's an extension of her very being, and before I know it, I’m holding the flat white.
I take a sip.
Time slows. Birds sing. A single tear forms. The world suddenly makes sense.
If a warm hug, a love song, and a perfectly executed mic drop all had a baby, it would be this flat white. Smooth, velvety, just the right balance of espresso and milk—if I had to describe perfection, it would taste like this.
And let’s talk about Mel. If barista-ing were an Olympic sport, she’d be draped in gold medals, casually making your coffee while signing autographs. She doesn’t just make drinks—she creates experiences. You don’t just leave Hat Hats caffeinated, you leave changed.
Would I go back? Absolutely. Would I trust Mel with my life? Honestly, yes.
10/10. Hat Hats is now my personality. Go. Now. You deserve it.
Hat Hats at Coastal Park – Coffee, Crows & Criminally Good Vibes
This is review two in two days, and frankly, it had to be done. Some places give you caffeine. Hat Hats gives you a whole cinematic universe.
It started in Radnor Park. I was sipping a brew so good I briefly ascended. Out of the ether comes a man — maybe a prophet, maybe Batman’s lesser-known cousin, FRED. He leans in, eyes full of mystery, and whispers: “Hat Hats. Coastal Park. Liz. You’ll know.” Then gone. Smoke bomb. No explanation.
I follow the lead. Coastal breeze in my face. I arrive at Hat Hats, and there, behind the machine like a tattooed sorcerer of the bean, is Liz DeBriesta.
Let’s talk about Liz: calm, cool, and tattooed like each coffee she’s made left a mark — literally. But her ink isn’t loud; it’s epic backstory level. You don’t look at Liz’s tattoos — they look at you. If Gandalf did flat whites and rode a Vespa, you’d still want Liz to make your coffee first.
She hands me a cup. No words. Just a silent transfer of power. I take a sip — boom. Mouth-hug. Brain high-five. Spine tingle. I’m not saying I saw God, but something winked at me from another plane.
And then... chaos.
Enter: The Crow. Beak bent like he’s headbutted history. Limp like he’s fresh out of a turf war. He sets eyes on my half-eaten cake. This bird had intent. He hops closer. I tighten my grip. He glares. I glare back. In that moment, I wasn’t a customer. I was Robin. Defending Gotham’s last slice of sponge. I won — barely. He flapped off, furious, feathers rustling curses.
Just when I think it’s over — the squires arrive.
Two of them. Walking slow. Matching coats. Like the Kray Twins went to catering college. They don’t speak. They glide. Trays in hand. Probably trained by ninjas and Mary Berry. One gives me a nod that says, “We saw what happened. Respect.”
So what’s Hat Hats? A café? Yes. But also? A coming-of-age story. A caffeine-fuelled legend. A place where the coffee is magic, the crow has issues, and the staff might secretly run MI6.
Go. Thank Liz. Compliment her tattoos — they’re better than half your life decisions. Drink the coffee. Guard your cake. And remember: if you see that crow…...
Read moreThis little kiosk off the Leas has become an almost daily staple on our walk home. Rain or shine, the staff are always so friendly and make brilliant drinks everytime! The manager was a lovely woman who made a cracking frappe in the roasting heat. Liz is the face i see the most, and she makes the most perfect oat latte iv ever had! The tall lad who's name i unfortunately haven't caught always gives us a great smile, and my boyfriend said he made his day with how good his frappe was. A brilliant spot, we hope they're...
Read moreIf you say you serve coffee until 16.45 don't refuse to make a coffee qt 16.45 because "the coffee machine has been cleaned". Not very good customer service. A shane because the flat...
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