"Fish and chips," I said, somewhat confused. The young man who had come to our table after another server had given us glasses of water had oly asked if she taken our drink orders. Both my wife and I were fine with water and he stood there expectantly, as if waiting for us to invite him to sit down. Finally it dawned on me that he was here to take our orders.
My wife, who had selected Nury's for our evening's repast, looked up at the waiter. "Ceviche," she said firmly. He nodded and headed back to the kitchen. I glanced around the dining room.
"I'm not sure this restaurant knows what it wants to be," I declared. Rows of German beersteins, kettles, and cookware lined one wall, competing with corn molcajete grinding stones and other Mexican decor on the other. There was a distinct sea flavor to the place as well, as if the restaurant was trying to channel Red Lobster, but via Cancun.
So someone needs to explain how the hell a British staple like Fish and Chips ended up on the menu.
It was late Sunday evening and there were few guests. The waiter brought out our entrees. "Here is your Fish & Chips sir, and your fish tacos, ma'am."
I glanced down at three huge filets of batter fried fish, French fries, coleslaw, and tartar sauce. The waiter walked away.
"I ordered Ceviche," said my wife quietly. I blinked. Her plate was covered with three huge, fully loaded (overloaded to be honest ) fish tacos. I immediately bowed up, intent on demanding correction, but my wife, who hates conflict, pulled me back down.
"I'm hungry. These are fine," she told me. She had literally had fish tacos the night before so I looked at her suspiciously.
"They are? Are you sure?" She nodded, more to appease me than, than herself. I gave in and with reservation, sampled my fish.
Como dice. OMG. Succulent. Creamy. Buttery. Soft. Melt in your mouth goodness. My eyes widened in shock. What the bloody hell! No fish and chips EVER tasted this good. Never!
"This fish is INCREDIBLE!" I said in shock to my wife as she struggled to pick up a taco with a tortilla about three times smaller than the accompanying fillings. She gave up as it disintegrated in her hand and she resorted to a fork.
"Uh huh," she muttered in response. "Good."
Sensing disaster, I looked over at her. "How is yours?"
"Messy," she replied sullenly. "It tastes good, but the composition could be better constructed." She picked at taco two with her fork. "Your fish is good?"
"Good? Its incredible! I've never had anything like this, ever! This is the best fried fish I've ever had. Its amazing!"
She smiled. Canon.
And it wasn't just the fish. The fries were crisp and salty. The coleslaw not overly sweet. and the tartar sauce perfect. Blimey!
We ate our dinner and when the waiter returned, I asked what kind of fish I'd just eaten. He replied, "Basa swai."
I'd never heard of it, but a little research told me that it is a catfish from Asia, known for its fatty richness and low omega-3. Hmmm, no wonder it tasted so good. Its not a common fish sold in the US due to being frequently farmed in poor conditions with high levels of bacteria, mercury and other contaminants. Wow, isn't Google helpful? Still, it tasted amazing, was perfectly cooked, and now, three hours later, I feel fine.
My wife and I left and headed back for the hotel, reminiscing about basa swai, fish and chips and...
"I wanted Ceviche," my wife complained, regretting her decision not to bring it to the restaurant's notice, clearly following her like a storm follows a fisherman home.
Mexican Cantina? British Pub? Seaside grill? Who knows? I don't. But go anyway. Decide for yourself. Just make sure if you want the Ceviche, that you GET the Ceviche. I'm the Gourmet Goob. read more