From the Frontline to Fish n Chips

[video:youtube:sUhSBTCuGCk] I blame this post on Frontline blogger Rob Crilly. The Nairobi-based, Africa-wandering, freelance hack has taken it upon himself to sample the African take on Fish n Chips wherever he finds it on the continent. Whether it be good, bad, indifferent or possibly dangerous, Rob has kinda foolishly given himself the task of blogging it. In response, here we have Micky’s Fish Bar at 29 Norfolk Place in London. Anyone familiar with the Frontline Club will recognise Micky’s as it sits directly opposite the club entrance. But, how many members have ever entered and is it any good?

In answer to the first question – at least one. Me. Inside Micky’s Fish Bar, you’ve got your standard hot plates, men in hats, the frazzle and spit of frying oil, clammy air and formica tables laden with salt, vinegar, pepper, lemon juice and ketchup. The menu is resplendent with the full edible monty; haddock, cod, rock, plaice, skate, scampi, fish cakes, pies, chicken and burgers.

At around £7, it’s a sit in Haddock, chips and mushy peas I plump for. It doesn’t take long to arrive – not always a sign of quality in your English chippy – but the spread, as you can see above and below, is impressive. And it’s not bad fish n chips, it’s just not great fish n chips. It’s adequate. And, when you’re used to the nosh John serves up in the club over the road, adequate is a distant second best.

There just isn’t a lot of taste going on here. Not that I’m averse to a bucketful of vinegar and a thimble full of salt, but even that jolt failed to kickstart Micky’s out of bland and into merely average. That said, if it’s a stodgey British fix you need, Micky’s will suffice.