Certain foods taste and look better in the sun, with the sea lapping against your feet. Fish and chips on the pier, oysters from a shack right by the water, or a supermarket sandwich, held with one hand while the other holds on to a tin of ready-mixed gin and tonic, sitting on a beach blanket and watching the windsurfers.
A restaurant that does amazing food and offers a proper sea view will be a goldmine, booked up for weeks on end not just by locals, but city dwellers escaping the sound of juggernauts and police sirens in favour of seagulls and ghettoblaster music. In search of that perfect destination by the ocean I found that you can have the amazing food or the sound of the waves – but getting the two together is trickier.
Recently I was in Blackpool, that ramshackle seaside town in the north of England, while the wind howled and the rain became horizontal. I was there to interview a local who suggested we had our chat during fish and chips. She chose Lily’s, an institution that is nestled on an unattractive side street, without a sea view. It didn’t matter, because there was beauty nestled on the plate.
Having been raised in the north-east of England, surrounded by coastal towns such as Saltburn and Whitby, I know my fish and chips. When I first moved to London I was appalled at what passes for this British delicacy. I never got used to the soggy batter, pallid chips and, a crime against humanity in my view, unskinned fish. I remember asking for mushy peas and being offered curry sauce instead by the bemused fryer.
Blackpool, for all its failings as a once glamorous seaside town, certainly knows how to work a deep-fat fryer. Two plates were plonked down on to the Formica, alongside a pot of tea. My haddock was covered in a tempura-like batter and was creamy soft, flaky and, honestly, tasted of the sea. What’s more the fish, thank goodness, had been skinned prior to being battered.
If money were no object (or better still, if I didn’t see the prices and took the food at face value) I would very much like Sargasso in Margate, because it is close to the sea and serves things that come out of it
No freezer had been involved in the preparation of my lunch, and I am sure I could taste beef dripping on the chips. They were exactly as chip-shop chips should be – thick enough so that the insides were steamed and the outside nicely browned. The only adornment was a shake of salt and a splash of Sarson’s.
The haddock hung off both sides of the large plate, and I resisted touching the (very tempting) slices of white bread and butter on the table. Even so, after scoffing the lot I could barely stagger to greet the tide, a few steps away but well hidden behind a sea of concrete and parked cars.
On to Margate, that town on the Kent coast that has enjoyed a reputation in the past for being as rough as a badger’s crotch. A positive gourmet experience in the past may well have involved a Greggs sausage roll, but in recent years, things have certainly changed. There are almost as many acclaimed chefs that have moved to the town from London as there are kids sniffing glue behind the derelict candy floss shack. On the Harbour Arm, down by the Turner gallery and just past the oyster shack, there is Sargasso, an ingredients-led tiny place with either room at the bar or on those tall tables with stools that take up less space and leave half of you numb after sitting there for the (maximum) two-hour time slot.
The food comprises mainly small plates of tasty morsels such as anchovies in olive oil so green it belongs on a Turner painting. Then there are local oysters with spicy sausage, and clams in Spanish ham and sherry sauce. The food is as on-trend as it is pricey. For example, cured mackerel served with Therese Coffey-pleasing turnip alongside a little apple and horseradish will set you back £14, and a tiny portion of Tuscan salami is £9.
If money were no object (or better still, if I didn’t see the prices and took the food at face value) I would very much like Sargasso, because it is close to the sea and serves things that come out of it. The wine list includes a divine English sparkling wine, which screams ‘posh staycation’ as well as anything can. This is a joint that can only get away with charging such prices for small portions of (admittedly top quality) food to which very little has been done because it is in spraying distance of the sea.
Eating by the sea, at least in full view of its beauty, will either cost you the price of a small boat for food that is often secondary to the ambience, or will taste of the sea, as did the glorious haddock at Lily’s, but with the beauty reserved for the plate.
What are your favourite seaside restaurants? Share your recommendations below.
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