Articles Tagged ‘fish and chips’

WEEKLY LUNCH PICK: The Courtyard Restaurant serves up fish and chips. Who knew?

Catch of the day: Anne DesBrisay waxes poetic over The Courtyard Resto's fish and chips, describing a beer batter that crunches, crackles, and oozes — in a good way

Here’s the question for all you competent cooks out there: hands up which of you makes fish and chips at home?  Exactly. Of course you don’t.

It’s dangerous work, messy to clean up if executed stovetop, and a pain to push aside the fondue sets and pasta machine to haul out the deep fat fryer from the back of the lowest cupboard.

Much more sensible to go out.

And many do: every faithful Friday to the local pub or fish market café for a basket of fish and chips (in my case, the Whalesbone Sammich is often the fish of choice). But who thinks to head to The Courtyard Restaurant when craving a chipper?

Not I. Until last Friday. But newish executive chef Murray Wilson is a Brit, you see — he took over the top toque job when Michael Hay moved to Back Lane Café — and alongside his lunch menu of mostly posh things like wild mushroom risotto with truffle oil and pan seared steelhead trout bathed in beurre blanc, there is the entry “English fish ‘n chips”. Other than the fact it costs $16, it is properly old school.

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ANNE’S PICKS: Delighting in fish — two ways — at Le Resto

Fried bliss: Le Resto's fish and chips is known to be among the best in the region

By Anne DesBrisay

It took dull, dogged discipline to look past the signature fish and chips, and drift down to the bottom of the page where floundered a dish of steamed cod. But point to it I did, with teeth-gritted determination. My doc had made me promise that I would eat less fat. This, for God sake, thanks to blood work done the morning after an evening of sumptuous food-judging at the Gold Medal Plates. The results were surely skewed, I complained, by all those rich little treats with wines to match… a bit of beer, too… don’t forget the beer. I think it’s fair to say she had little sympathy.

So here we are, my friend and I, at Le Resto in Chelsea, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. We are seated at one of the window tables, the blinds down a bit to block the parking lot view and keep the November sun from boiling our wine. We’ve gone for a two-hour hike in the hills. We order: she, the aforementioned fish & chips, known (not just by me) to be among the best in the region; I, the very-good-for-me-but-not-very-exciting steamed cod.

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