When the Chips Are Down

It's good to be able to find a place that serves good food (see Filipino Food Frights) .  The London Underground (as in railway, not crime) in seedy Barretto is one such place.  Styled along the lines of a London cafe it is principally a fish and chip shop but it also sells all manner of British foods ranging from sausage and mash, fish cakes, stew and traditional English breakfast.  All washed down with a proper mug of tea (choose from either Tetley's or PG Tips).

I always took delight in the menu that stated: "We do not sell French fries.  If you want French fries either go to McDonalds or France." Brilliant.

The shop is owned by an English guy from Tunbridge Wells of a certain notoriety called Steve "Hickey" Hickmott, who I've met on several occasions, usually moaning about the lack of finesse  in the American palate.  No, we don't have A1 steak sauce; no we don't have plastic cheese that comes individually wrapped in plastic (hmmmm, throw away the cheese and eat the plastic, it's far tastier); and no, we definitely, definitely do not sell french fries).

The fish and chips is by far the best meal on the menu.  The fish is always cooked to perfection with a light crispy batter and not greasy or oily in any way.  Okay, so it isn't cod but it's a fine, perfectly acceptable substitute from tropical waters.

Before . . . 

. . .  After

The bad news is it's going to close next month.  I'm not exactly sure why but the girls working there said it was "Because of bills to pay", whatever that means.  Admittedly, it's never packed out but there was usually a couple of expats in there having lunch or dinner, which should of kept the place going.

Lets Hope Someone Buys It.

I for one am going to miss it.