In Traditional Batter Or Tempura, Waxed Paper Or Cage Liner, There's A Special, Sizzling Appeal To Fish And Chips

In the U.K., sex education used to be what you learned while eating your fish and chips and reading what wrapped it, namely the News of the World, a grease-spotted publication filled with stories of scoutmasters, vicars, and duchesses, all couched in terms of suggestive ambiguity. (For a sample, see www.newsoftheworld.co.uk/.) As fish and chips climbed the social ladder, the Daily Telegraph became the newspaper of choice for fish wrap. Now, the paper selected by purveyors of this classic British staple directly reflects the acuity and intelligence of their clientele: for its takeaway orders, Go Fish uses the Georgia Straight.

This little blue shoebox of an outdoor café has been a long time acomin' to its patch of federal land at the fish market near Granville Island. Don't blame owner Gord Martin (of Bin 941 and 942 fame); stomp on bureaucracy. Plans were to have the place jumping by summer, but it was late September before the first paper-wrapped bundle came over the counter. Halibut, salmon, oysters, mussels--the seafood here is as fresh as it gets, Martin says, and it comes from the fish boats just down the ramp whenever possible.

The triple punch of carbs, fat, and salt may be anathema to every doctor alive (and also to fans of the deceased Dr. Atkins), but Martin's version, served in bamboo steamers, is so grease-free it practically counts as health food, the batter tempura-light, the fish moist, and the cole slaw satisfyingly crunchy. Nor is the tartar sauce the usual space-creature exudate: it's creamy and sparkles with dill and tarragon. The frites are hot, crisp, tasty, and hand-engraved with marine scenes. Joke. They're chips, for heaven's sake: hot, crisp, and tasty is all anyone wants.

If you do deviate from cod, salmon, or halibut and chips, try the line-caught grilled salmon on a Portuguese-type bun from Tartine Bakery sandwiched with side-stripe shrimp mayo (whose shrimpiness, to be honest, I couldn't really discern) and a cluster of organic greenery. If McDonald's Filet-O-Fish is one end of the scale, this "fish burger" is the other. Still to try are fish tacos, the Cortes Island po' boy, and sundry other delicious stuff. Frites and one piece of cod is $6; lunch for two is under $20, but it's a million-dollar setting, with planters bristling with herbs and edible flowers edging the small eating-area patio with its jaw-dropping False Creek view. Go early to score the sweet seats in the sun and guarantee to get fed: when supplies are gone, staff shut up the shutters and leave.

Missed the boat? Bomb over to Kerrisdale's Fish Café. The chip wrap is different here, translucent squares preprinted with recipes and piscatorial factoids from a restaurant supplier. Nosh away while you learn about lobsters or Flossie's Flounder íƒ   l'orange. This is a neighbourhood spot with counter seats and less than a dozen tables. Coziness comes from the old-fashioned stove, the cheery fish plaques swimming across the warm-coloured walls, and candlelight at night. (Lowering those overheads in height and wattage would help.) Clientele is a snapshot of the quartier: a man with his elderly pa, a clutch of seniors, a few families, young guys with financial plans for company. The approach is more bistro than "chippie", with a straightforward, affordable list of wines (in glasses, half-litres, or bottles), R & B on tap, mains presented in fry pans to mellow background music mixed with the constant sizzle, and the occasional megasplutter from the chip fryer.

The menu, chalked on two big boards, lets you pick your own technique, seasonings, sauces (e.g., lemon butter, peri-peri), and sizes. A small yet generous order of grilled calamari with garlic butter was excellent, served over rice. The chips are big and blisteringly hot, the fish batter is traditional, still crunchy but not as crisp, or as thin, as the tempura variety, and the fish is perfectly cooked. Shades of the '80s: this must be one the few places in town where you can still find "blackened" seafood, and it's competently done with just enough fiery spice but not so much that it steamrolls over the delicate flavour of salmon in a burger. Next time we'll try the fish soup or the mussels and that evil-looking chocolate tart. Factor in a beer each and you're out the door for about $30 for two.

GO FISH 1505 West 1st Avenue, 604-730-5040. Open daily 11:30 a.m. to dusk. FISH CAFE 2053 West 41st Avenue, 604-267-3474. Open Sunday to Friday 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., 5 p.m. to 9 p.m., Saturday 5 p.m. to 9 p.m.