Ed eats

Star Fish Bar and Pies
149, The Strand
Gżira
Tel: 2704 2321

Food: 6/10
Service: 7/10
Ambience: 6/10
Value: 8/10
Overall: 7/10

The drizzle outside and solid cloud cover turned the world into a drab, grey version of itself. With colour sucked out of it, everywhere looked practically like everywhere else. People rushed around facing the pavement, like water is less annoying on the back of their neck than it would be on their face. This also helps everyone to avoid each other’s gaze. The people who did walk about in company, muttered to each other in a multitude of languages, most of which were only vaguely familiar. And I wasn’t in London.

Let’s backtrack a little. It all started with the weather. Looking out of the office window, I figured it was perfect weather for fish and chips. And the only place I could think of that would serve this sort of food was ‘that fish and chips place in Gżira’. Whoever named it Star Fish Bar and Pies (SFBP) wasn’t quite hung up on memorability. I worked through the morning with food on my mind, as is very often the case, and dashed off as soon as my stomach informed me that it was lunchtime.

I tried to recruit company but most people thought that it was the kind of weather to eat in rather than face a 15-minute drive and all the grief this brought with it. I get their point. As soon as water falls from the sky, most drivers press a button that says ‘stupid mode’ on their dashboards and weave around causing mayhem. The promise of fish and chips at the end of the trip, however, made it all worth braving. So off I ventured in solitude.

It turns out that SFBP is a great place to have lunch alone. There’s this red, white, and black theme going on and large windows to go with it. The result is a bright and cheerful place that’s both attractive and functional. Excellent use has been made of the relatively limited space, with tall chairs and chest-high tables lining both sides of the dining area. Sitting at one of these places means that a lone diner doesn’t occupy precious space at one of the tables.

Not everyone enjoys having lunch alone and I know more people who hate finding themselves in the situation than those who are comfortable with it. Well, I quite like it. I have no one to blame for poor company except myself, and that is oddly comforting. The format is in the same vein as that of the traditional fish and chip shop, a layout that is time-honoured and shared with countless fast-food eateries. Order at the counter, pay for your meal and find a seat.

The food is prepared in the kitchen that’s just behind the counter, separated from the dining area by heated food displays. The displays are very temptingly filled with pies but I had to have my fill of fish and chips and there was no turning back now.

The girl at the till was pleasant, smart and knew enough about the food to help me reach a decision. She described the cod as slightly sweeter than the haddock, the latter having a more fishy taste. These two are served battered. The third option is that of breaded plaice. There are also the staples such as battered sausage and mushy peas and fishcakes so there’s a fried option for everyone.

This is as close to home-battered fish as I’ve encountered

As is often the case with this sort of outfit, you’re at the mercy of the shift. I was very favourably impressed by the girl who served me and hoped that this sort of service would be the order of the day, whatever the day.

I ordered the battered cod, with chips and a soft drink, collected spare change from a tenner and took a seat. My food took all of 10 minutes to be served, perfectly reasonable at lunchtime, and was served in an open carton tray lined with greaseproof paper. I almost hoped for yesterday’s paper to be in there somewhere but that only reveals my age. Health and safety regulations religiously forbid anything that’s fun and slightly dangerous.

The tray is quite large and was filled with thick-cut chips, atop which sat a large, battered fillet of cod. The batter is crisp on the outside, not too thick, and filled with fish that tastes much better than I’d expected it to be. This is as close to home-battered fish as I’ve encountered at a commercial purveyor of all things fried and I did all I could to devour it. Even after I’d eaten my fill, I parted the batter with my plastic cutlery. The chips ought to be better. They’re not crisp on the outside and some more care and attention paid to them would go down a treat. There are two great things about this lovely source of starch though: the portion is generous and they’re served unseasoned.

SFBP thoughtfully provides the entire gamut of chipper condiments. There’s vinegar in plastic bottles, squeezy single-serve portions of ketchup, mayonnaise and tartare sauce and trucker-sized salt and pepper shakers. And unlike the burger-peddling superpowers of fast food, they don’t charge extra for allowing a patron to add flavour to their meal.

I’d have liked to see a couple of items from the underbelly of the traditional chipper – something like a deep-fried, battered Mars bar. I understand that they’d have little demand for this sort of thing but that’s until more people get to appreciate the wonders of this sort of concoction when stumbling home during the early hours of the morning after a night out on the town.

I relayed all this to a colleague who has spent most of the last decade in London and he was enthused. So the next day we went to SFBP together. The rain hadn’t shown signs of letting up so we knew the drive would be a test of our patience but we put on our game faces and braved the chaos.

This time I wanted to try the breaded plaice. The portion would be smaller and I’d get to try yet another fish. My colleague was all for the sausage, to which he craftily added a curry sauce. I tried to order a side of scallops because that always sounds fancy at a fish and chip shop but they’d run out. There was a different girl at the till, just as helpful and friendly as the girl on the previous day. I just love consistency.

The plaice was pretty decent but I far preferred the cod from the day before. The flavour of the fish is entirely a matter of preference but I also favour the texture of fresh fish inside a batter over the slightly drier breaded fry.

Like a man inspecting the first winter truffle, my guest sniffed, nodded approvingly and exclaimed: “Ah, Saveloy sausage” with the slow nod of those in the know. The fat sausage, that has often been reported to contain pork but I suspect is suitable for vegetarians, is pale and packed with flavour. The notion of adding a crisp, battered exterior to these sausages makes one wonder whether there’s a statue somewhere dedicated to the first person to come up with this happy marriage.

This time we paid even less than I had on my first visit, sharing a bill of just over €14 for our meals for this page out of the skinny British cookbook. SFBP adds another marker to the map of countries that have their kitchen represented in Gżira. So far, we have imaginary flags dotted around Europe, Asia, Africa and even South America in this most cosmopolitan of villages. I wouldn’t have expected the Queen’s green islands to make it to the area so soon, but I’m quite glad it did.

You can send e-mails about this column to ed.eatson@gmail.com or follow @edeats on Twitter.

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