I’ve always loved fish & chips, even before I knew chips were French fries. Now and then my parents would take us to a tiny wood-paneled shop in downtown Englewood where you could get a plate of what to me was the holy grail of food and check out the quirky pictures on the wall. I’ll never understand why we didn’t eat there more often and, at the time, I didn’t realize Arthur Treacher’s was a chain. I guess I thought some dour guy in a three-piece suit with an umbrella once opened this store near the epicenter of the universe – it was just blocks from Cinderella City, And I still do.
To be honest, I’ve been underwhelmed by the chippies I’ve visited on various trips to London. The batter is always tasteless and the fish too massive. Not to mention the dental disasters frying everything up. Also: more vinegar, please. Mushy peas have proven a nice surprise, though.
And so I was happy when I discovered a little chippy joint at the end of Oranienburger Strasse when I moved here. Astor. I went there plenty by myself and then it became a staple of Sabine and I’s dating years. The evening of Sept. 11 we sat there trying to decide what it all meant. It was the kind of place where I could never tell if the woman behind the bar recognized me or not. It felt like they were always renovating and never getting finished.
Then it closed. I’m sure it’s a shoe or clothing shop now. That area is now for tourists, not natives.
But not too long ago Fischladen opened up in an old fish store on Schönhauser Allee. First one friend recommended it, then other, then I ate there. And I thought of a dour guy in a three-piece suit and an umbrella. The batter is tasty, the fish is actually spiced a bit before it gets a nice coat and the chips might not be hand cut but they’re the better ones from Metro’s frozen food section. It’s more like a high-class snack bar where you can order what’s on the menu or ask them to do a little something special – and they will. Martha and I like to split a small fish & chips and a salad and he always throws something extra in with the greens. “Hey, how about some fried mushrooms?” Last night, with two smalls to go, he made sure to only put vinegar on one set of chips because of the kids. He and the kids also talked about the Ice Age that was playing on the TV.
“It’s Ice Age 2,” Cy assured me.
The cook and the other older guy behind the counter always joke in an odd mix of formality, small talk and wise cracks that only Northern Germans can pull off (Berliners can do the last two bits but substitute irreverence for formality).
So, go there if you’re here.
(That's a pic of the Arthur Treacher's building today, FYI)
Labels: food
