A Fish and Chip Off - July 2010

Where: The Adam and Eve and The Dining Plaice, Soho

With who: Wing Commander at the Adam and Eve and Ed Hitter for Berwick Street
How much: The Adam and Eve charged a tenner for their fish and chips, plus (London) pub prices for their drinks. The Dining Plaice was a much more reasonable £6.60 for a very large haddock and chips, a quid for some curry sauce and 90p for a tea (take that Starbucks)

I love working in Soho... truly I do.

I am quite aware that I spend a lot of my time going for lunches at the moment. Now to be fair, I do work as well - I'm sometimes at my desk as early as 9.30 and when really stretched have been known to stay, on occasion, past 4 in the afternoon. Lucky enough not to have a proper job surrounded by middle aged men in suits, I can sail close to the wind of Soho media trendy and waltz off for long lunches at a whim. Having had two fish n chip lunches in so many weeks (and no time to write them up) I thought I might as well cover them off at the same time. 


The Adam and Eve

The Wing Commander needed a catch up, briefing on a planned event and, never one to look a gift lunch in the mouth, I took up his invite to cover it over a bite to eat. The Adam and Eve is a bright and smiley gastro pub by numbers from mass market chain Geronimo. It used to be goth tourist trap the Ben Crouch (dark, loud and punky) prior to a beige makeover aimed at ensnaring the nearby office drones, of which dear reader, I am one. Bland is the decor, new are the staff.


I hadn't had a decent fish and chip lunch for a while, sadly on leaving the place, this situation still stood. The chirpy staff tried their hardest, but this was the worst form of cook by numbers I've had for a while. 
A dark batter carapace flecked with a mystery herb had been in the fryer for way too long. It died protecting the white flesh below but the eventual reveal showed that the fish had given up the ghost long ago. It had the look of blackened cod underneath, fibrous and chewy from the deep fry. The chunky chips looked promising initially, but a whiff of old oil hung above them, and I was only saved from the taste of that by the salt that the poundshop Jamie Oliver in the kitchen had liberally dumped on them before they reached me. 


The Dining Plaice

Ed Hitter was the most recent lucky recipient of an hour of my very valuable time. I'd been fantasising about (proper) fish and chips since my tastebuds were assaulted a couple of weeks ago and desperate to atone, dragged the hapless journalist to Berwick Street. There are certainly no airs and graces with The Dining Plaice. It's been there for years, as the formica tables, bus station seating and tired and battered decor shows. The black sign above the hallowed door has been there for so long I only noticed what it was called when I checked back on my photos, for as long as I've worked round here, it's just been known as 'the chippie'. Everyone knows where you mean, like Highlander, there can only be one. If you do feel tempted to give it a go, then get there before 12.30. The queue on a lunchbreak can stretch out of the door.

Schooling my southern friend in the ways of the fish and chipper, I led the way with haddock and chips, curry sauce, a bread roll and a cup of tea. Sandwiched between a team of web designers and a couple of sweary builders, we didn't have long to wait before the food arrived. Freshly cooked, the enormous mountain arrived straight from the fryer, heat bravely battling the aggressive aircon attack. The crispy batter was cooked to perfection, and the pearl white fish underneath was soft and yielding. Curry sauce was the proper chip shop special, sweet, thin and tasting nothing like curry. It soaked into the chips, oil free and with enough of a crunch to carry it.


In conclusion
The Dining Plaice has it. A special place in my heart. Can you tell? Now it's still not the best in London, for me Masters Superfish in Waterloo still holds that title, but then Masters isn't five minutes from my office, and it's bloody good regardless. I'm not sure whether this is the right time to bring up the tired North v South debate. All three of them have serious flaws. All of the fish is served with it's skin on, and they all look at you oddly if you ask for batter bits or scraps on the side.