Miroir Cafe, Fez: an Everyday Hangout for Locals

Some places in Fez feel less like businesses and more like extensions of the neighborhood.

Fez — The first thing you notice at Miroir Cafe is the glass front that mirrors the bustle outside. From the sidewalk you see newspapers folded on tables, laptops open by the window, and a steady drift of regulars who greet the staff by name.

Inside, the room is bright and airy: clean lines, comfortable chairs, and soft music to accompany easy conversation. On mild days the terrace is the prize seat, a front-row view on daily life in the Ville Nouvelle.

The menu reads like a mix of cafe staples and Moroccan comforts.

Mornings are for omelets, croissants, and strong coffee; afternoons shift to brochettes, sandwiches, and fresh juices. Later in the day, people return for mint tea, cakes, and long chats.

Prices sit in the city’s mid-range for cafes—figure roughly 15–25 MAD for coffee, 25–40 MAD for juices, 25–45 MAD for desserts, and 60–110 MAD for light meals—enough options to make it an easy choice for a solo stop or a small group.

Service is part of the appeal. Orders arrive without fuss, and the staff are present without hovering.

If you hesitate over the pastry case, they’ll tell you what’s fresh, and if you’re settling in with a laptop, they’ll point you to the outlets by the wall.

On match nights, the screens come alive and the room takes on that familiar Fez soundtrack of cheers, groans, and quick analysis between sips of tea.

Timing matters, like anywhere in the city. Late mornings are calm enough for reading or revising; early afternoons see a lunch rush of office workers and students; evenings become social, with couples on the terrace and families sharing plates.

It’s a reliable meeting point—central, recognizable, and comfortable for a first coffee with someone you’ve only met online or a quick debrief after a long day in the medina.

As a local, what I find most appealing is the cafe’s ability to move with the city’s ebbs and flows of energy. I’ve slipped in on rainy days for a warm glass of atay and a slice of cake, and I’ve lingered on bright weekends when the terrace feels like a neighborhood salon.

Once, studying for an exam, I nursed a single espresso while the staff quietly refreshed my water; another time, two tourists at the next table asked for a dinner tip and ended up with a handwritten list from the waiter and half the terrace weighing in with favorites. That’s Fez.

Miroir Cafe isn’t trying to be the city’s “it” address. It’s steady, welcoming, and consistent. It’s the kind of place you recommend when someone asks for somewhere simple that still feels like Fez. Come for a quick coffee, stay for the people-watching, and leave with the sense that you’ve plugged back into the rhythm of the neighborhood.