When the batter coats a fresh cod fillet in a single layer and the frying time, temperature and oil are right, the fish effectively steams within its crisp golden shell. The hidden treasure – firm, glistening flakes of pearly white cod – distinguishes my picks for Top 10 Fish and Chips in London.

At its best, crispy battered fish delivers a sudden rush of happy hormones to our rewards centre.

David Miller, Head of Training at the National Federation of Fish Friers, divides the tasting experience into three successive sensations:

1. The audible crunch as your teeth pierce the golden batter and its airy network of minuscule bubbles.
2. The satisfying “fried” taste of the batter as it breaks down in your teeth and melts in your mouth.
3. The coming of the cod and waves of mildly sweet flavour from dense, steamy flakes of contentment.

Before you rush on to the next bite, pause for aftertaste of the batter, with a note of oil. You might not care to see residues of frying oil on the bottom of your, or feel an oily trace left on their palates. That’s greasy, and greasy is bad. But though the frying oil should never seep through the protective barrier, a small amount will be absorbed by it. The very ingredient that dehydrates the batter to the point of optimum crispness turns it moist and melty.

“You don’t want to get rid of every last drop of oil,” says Andrew Crook, president of the National Federation of Fish Friers. “Oil is part of the flavour profile.”

To be short-listed for my Top 10 Fish and Chips in London list, the battered fish had to be:

• Too hot to eat straight away but too good not to.
• As delectable detached from its batter as was the batter detached from it.

Declaration of Neutrality

I may live in London but, as a transplanted New Yorker, I have no tribal loyalties towards any regional style or tradition. That’s made it easy for me to maintain neutrality and dodge the great fish-and-chip debates: cod vs. haddock, skin-on vs. skin-off, vegetable oil vs. beef dripping, flat batter vs. lively batter, crisp chips vs. tender ones.

“With fish and chips, people like different things,” warns Crook. “You’re never going to keep everyone happy.”

I focused my comparative tasting on a single fish, Atlantic cod, risking the wrath of haddock hounds. (If you prefer haddock, have haddock. Don’t let me stop you.) I am partial to prime fillets cut from the loin, the fat middle section of the cod, yielding superbly chunky flakes of firm fish. A thinner fillet from the tail portion will close the distance between the top and bottom layers of batter, however, producing a crispy sandwiching effect cherished by tail-enders. One size fillet does not fit all. If you have a preference, it never hurts to ask for it.

Breaking through the batter of each contender for Top-10 honours was crunch time: I could judge how well the flakes of cod retained their firmness, moisture and freshness. I could lean my head over the exposed cross-section of the fillet, take in the fragrant steam and effectively give myself a Gadus morhua facial.

Chips Matter, Too

Forget what you’ve read, heard or said; chips are not french fries and french fries are not chips, even if it’s becoming a harder to tell these fried potatoes apart. At London chippies at least, the soft, long, stodgy, extra-chunky, single-cooked chips of yore may be going the way of the long-forbidden newspaper wrappers that trapped their steam and enhanced their sogginess. At most of today’s best chippies you’re served straight-cut jumbo cuboids blanched (pre-cooked) and later plunged into hot oil to set in colour and crispness.

Fish shops typically rotate potato varieties, which can affect the texture of their chips. The new, early-crop tubers introduced in July have a higher water content, yielding a tender outcome. Chips are seasonal and shouldn’t always be judged by their hue and saturation. This isn’t Photoshop. Look instead for a clean aroma, crisp surfaces highlighted by crisper edges, a fluffy interior and a true potato flavour almost suggestive of mashed potatoes. Do not look for french fries.

I’d Rather Wait for My Fish than Have My Fish Wait for Me

Many relate freshness to how recently the fish has been caught, or in the belief that it’s not been frozen at any point in its journey from fisherman to cook. But at a fish and chips, the freshest fish is one that’s only just been prepared. And that’s something that you, the customer, can impact. Simply ask that your fish be fried to order. It’s always better to wait for your fish than have your fish wait for you.

Some shops do a brisk trade, with constant queues. When battered fish fillets are done frying they don’t sit around for long. It’s drain and go. If, on the contrary, business is sporadic and preparation is not paced accordingly, the golden-bodied fillets can be left to lounge in the hot box like sunbathers at the beach, slowly drying out under the heat lamps. Requests for fried-to-order fish elicit a range of responses, from assurances that all fish is as fresh as can be to the proverbial two-minute plea: That fish was just made,” goes the fish tale. “It’s only been in there for two minutes.” Were you are told that ready fillet had been resting in the hot box for a minute, or even six, that could be credible – and acceptable. But two minutes? I’ve known hours shorter than that.

Tasting Notes

My system for selecting the Top 10 Fish and Chips in London wasn’t scientific, nor was it swayed by sentiment. Remember, I’m a New York lad. I have no childhood memories of fish suppers, no associations with British seaside summers to draw upon.

The list is a reflection of comparative tasting and gut instinct, both mine, with the quality of the battered fried fish accounting for about half of the equation; the chips, a quarter. The rest is covered by my feelings about the fish shop’s culture, from atmosphere and attentiveness to a sense of family and community. The condiments and side attractions ought to have been considered, too, but it just wasn’t feasible for me to assess the tartare sauce, mushy peas, curry sauce and pickled onions at every place I visited.

These are hard times for the food-and-chip industry, with the price of fish, oil, gas and electricity far outpacing the prices many Londoners will pay for a fish supper. Nothing is cheap-as-chips anymore. I hope this compilation will help inspire a reappraisal of a common food that, if conditions worsen, may not be that much longer.

Takeaway shops did qualify for consideration only if they offered an option for on-site or, at the very least, pavement (sidewalk) eating. Locals presumably have a home dinette, work canteen or sofa nearby where they can open a takeaway box and consume its contents while still warm. The rest of us do not.

When visiting a candidate for Top 10 Fish and Chips in London for the first time, I always paid my own way.

For the 2022 update, I owe a debt of gratitude to two of the UK’s leading authorities on fish and chips, National Fish Friers Associate President Andrew Crook of Skippers of Euxton, Lancashire and NFFA Regional Director for England David Miller of Miller’s Fish & Chips in Haxby, North Yorkshire. Their insights about the preparation and, importantly, the appreciation of fish and chips informed my assessments, as did their passion for upholding a British institution.

The Top 10 Fish and Chips in London

 

View Top 10 Fish and Chips in London

1. The Laughing Halibut

To stand behind your fish-and-chips business you stand in front, by the window, where everyone can see you. The bespectacled Mustafa Raif occupies that senior position at The Laughing Halibut, overseeing the takeaway counter and greeting familiar faces as he carefully scoops London’s crunchiest chippy chips into paper bags. He tries to filter out the chip fragments, but a couple of those irresistible bronzed bits invariably escape his screening. Behind the long frying range, a trio of deft fry cooks, including Mustafa’s son Arif, works the fish bar, bantering and bickering all day long in the spirit of either teamwork or rivalry, it’s hard to tell which. The tables in the back are occupied by knowing locals from the Westminster area and tourists from everywhere, all looked after by Mustafa’s wife Ayshe. If you prefer The Laughing Halibut’s lively batter when it’s applied to a thick cod fillet, or a very thin one, or if you want scoop of batter scraps, or extra chip bits, you must tell Ayshe. This is no place to be silent, until your fish and chips arrive and you gather the essentials – fork, salt shaker, vinegar, smartphone in camera mode.
The Laughing Halibut, 38 Strutton Ground, London SW1P 2HR, 020 7799 2844

2. Golden Anchor Fish Bar

Lou Chrysostomou glides his fingers down the sides of a fillet double-dipped in batter to wipe off all the excess. What would happen, he is asked, if he skipped this final step of prep prior to frying and left more batter on the fillet? The co-owner, with his wife Ellie, of Golden Anchor, curls his lip upwards as if it were caught on a hook. “It would get all smashy and the fish wouldn’t like it either.” Lou’s cod is anything but smashy, if I interpret that term correctly as a variant of smushy. It’s positively smashing: Plump, diagonal flakes of pristine cod burnished in steam and gilded with a contoured crunch. The once-fried chips are on the pale and soft side – very old school, just like everything else in this classic, local, mom-and-pop fish bar serving the South London suburbs of Mitchum and Tooting. Lou is part cod whisperer, part frying commenter, coordinating the lineups of fish and people and reporting joyfully to the latter on the progress of the former. At Golden Anchor the next glorious fish supper is there in the making.
Golden Anchor, 60 Gorringe Park Ave, Mitcham CR4 2DG, 020 8687 1655

3. Fish Central

Fish Central may lift its fish a beat or two early from the deep-fryer for optimum juiciness, but no one can complain their fillet is under-heated. Plump battered fillets are routinely served fresh out of the fryer when, according to fish-and-chips legend George Hussein, they’re too hot to taste. You must let the fish cool down, he advises, before diving in. But what if you can’t keep yourself from crushing that noisy batter and digging into the lustrous cod? “Then,” reasons George, with the special authority that comes from a half-century of experience, “you have to eat it.” Chips also arrive hot to the core, a function of a parallel crisping-and-steaming process. The potato supplies its own starch, which lacquers every chip with a transparent film, keeping most of the oil out and freeing the potato to fluff. A King Square institution opened in 1968 and still run by the Hussein family, Fish Central covers opposite ends of the fish-and-chips experience, from paper-napkin takeaway to white-cloth dining.
Fish Central, 149-155 Central St, King Square, London EC1V 8AP, 020 7253 4970

4. Ken’s Fish Bar

While it’s normal for children to take on their father’s family name, the two sons of the original Ken behind Ken’s Fish Bar have assumed their father’s Anglicised first name, too. It’s all terribly confusing but also understandable, especially since the Netflix series Somebody Feed Phil made Ken’s a world-famous name. Host Phil Rosenthal came to Herne Hill in South London to praise the crisp and exceptionally potatoey chips – no shocker, given their quality and portability, but the cod hardly merits second billing. This is still fish and chips, not chips and fish. The interplay between crunchy batter and chunky fish is divine. THANK COD FOR KEN’S is spelled out in big green letters mounted on the tiled wall and, for extra emphasis, was registered as the fish bar’s Instagram username (@thankcodforkens). But you will also want to thank Ken or, more accurately, the Kens for cod like this. There’s no seating save for a pair of all-weather pavement tables. For winter visits from distant postcodes, I suggest you come dressed in layers or, better still, rent a nearby Airbnb for the occasion and have your order boxed for takeaway.
Ken’s, 131 Half Moon Lane, London SE24 9JY, 020 7737 4953

5. Poseidon Fish Restaurant

6. The Kingfisher

7. Gigs Fish & Chips

The crunch from your first bite of Gigs battered cod is so resonant it almost feels as if the sound is coming from AirPods, not fish pods. It’s the crunchiest version in Central London and, if not left to drain for a good five minutes, as owners Aristos and Chris advise, possibly the greasiest, too. Don’t be put off by that straight away. It’s the batter that’s taken on the oil, not the pristine white flakes of fish within. This is fried battered fish at its unctuous peak, paired to best advantage with long, fluffy, crisp-edged chips. You can dine indoors in the dining room, with full-service comforts and prices to match, or al fresco at lower takeaway rates along the wooden-boarded beach terrace. There’s no sand or sea on Whitfield Street and there hasn’t been since this Fitzrovia mainstay opened 1958, but if it’s sunny and you’re ok sitting near free-spirited people who just might be licking their fingers it’s easy to suspend disbelief.
Gigs, 12 Tottenham St, London W1T 4RE, 020 7636 1424

8. Fladda Fish & Chips

In the lexicon of the chip shop, scraps are loose bits of fried batter which, having dropped off the fillets, are left behind after the fully cooked fish has been lifted from the oil. In the North of England, scraps are a traditional by-product collected in a scrap box and typically offered for free, as an accompaniment or a greasy snack. At Fladda in Camberwell, South London, the scraps are freshly prepared and integral to house fish recipe, so not technically scraps at all. The batter is dribbled into the bubbling oil, to fry alongside the fillets. As soon as the squiggles of batter have turned golden, they are scooped over the fillets to form bumpy mounds and embed a double crunch fish experience. The chips are lovely and the surroundings are modern and stylish, with a nautical blue-and-white frontage, cheerful graphics and choice tables inside and out.
Fladda, 55 Camberwell Church St, London SE5 8TR, 020 8127 6279

9. Poppies Fish & Chips

10. Fish Lounge

At most restaurants, if there’s not much of a queue, there’s not much of a wait. The opposite can be true at conscientious chippies like Fish Lounge. When the tide of customers ebbs, you may wait an extra 10 minutes for your fish fillet to be battered, fried and drained. The proud and affable owner Gus Mustafa boasts of patient regulars happy to stand at the takeaway counter or sit at table while their fish is made to order especially for them. Fish Lounge is an appealingly modern yet unfussy refuge from the bustle of Brixton Hill. The calm suits the vigilant fry cook, Gus’s wife Ulgen, who is attentive to the frying time and temperature and the consistency of her flour-and-water coating. If the batter is too thick, reveals Gus, a telltale yellowishness will appear where the thick outer layer of cooked batter meets the undercooked fish. Fish Lounge is no place for extremes. The fish is crispy but not excessively so. The pale-golden chips are a little soft but not mushy. And the wait for your order is probable but not intolerable.
Fish Lounge, 99 Brixton Hill, London SW2 1AA, 02086788755

In my sometimes uphill search for great London chippies, George’s Portobello Fish Bar in Notting Hill had the appearance of a dead cert.

First, Jamie Oliver had named it “best fish and chips” for the Observer Food Monthly, praising its “flaky cod with a lovely golden batter”. A photo of Jamie taken at George’s was proudly displayed in the fish bar. The famous chef had reciprocated by proudly displaying a photo of George’s fish and chips in one of his cookbooks.

Secondly, the chips, which I sampled first as a possible indicator of overall quality, were outstanding. Made from Maris Pipers, these were packed with potatoey flavour and blessed with an invisible sealant-like coating that provided a light but sure crispness.

Finally, there was the reassuring presence of George Periccos, the affable Greek-Cypriot who opened the fish bar in 1961. When I asked George for details of his provenance as well as that of his fish, potatoes and oil he eagerly whisked me to the back of the busy shop to show off dozens of beautifully fresh fillets neatly arranged in the stacked drawers of a stainless-steel refrigerator. The fisherman who caught these cods could not have been prouder of them than George was.

I was desperate to try the cod and had only to wait for the chatty proprietor to take a rare breath between sentences to escape the storage kitchen. When at last he paused I rushed back to the fish bar to request and pay for a £6 order of cod and take it over to the eating counter. George soon followed. The fillet was rather thin, with unappetizing pleats on one end (see left side of photo below).

It was as if the batter had folded over itself to create greasy wrinkles devoid of fish. Ugh.

Beneath its golden coating, the cod was dry. With a proper batter to protect it from direct contact with the frying oil, a fish fillet isn’t so much fried as steamed. Had this one sat too long out of its hot oil bath and dried out as a result? I waited for George to take another rare breath between paragraphs and uttered three words: Dry. No steam. George nodded. “The problem,” he said, “is that he gave you the wrong one.” The wrong one? Not very encouraging.

George rushed to the fish bar and brought me another cod fillet. This one was thicker than the first one and had no Issey Miyake-like pleats in its robe. But the fish, once cut open, was dry. No steam.

George again blamed the cooks, his son – the one in the photo with Jamie Oliver – among them. He held his staff responsible for his delayed retirement, too. They couldn’t be trusted. He had to come in every day and keep an eye open. But given that George was physically present in his fish bar when I was served the disappointing fillets, it was hard to take his frustrations seriously. His words, like his fish, just didn’t hold water