At some point over her hen weekend Sophie decided she was coming to Bournemouth with me. It might have been the beach, or Nancy in her ear singing its praises, or the weather forecast, but she was there, getting the train down, armed with a list of recommendations. She was sat on the beach waiting for me when I finished, fighting off the seagulls, holding a tin of something tepid in her hand. We walked down the coastal road, forty minutes of sun in our faces to the pier where the young kids hang around playing football and smoking weed, then another thirty minutes up the hill to Westbourne. We knew we’d hit Chez Fred because of the queues out of both doors. To the right the takeaway, to the left the restaurant where we were heading. Our wait was circa twenty minutes. We’d earned the right to sit down with a glass of wine.
Chez Fred is something of an institution in these parts. Supposedly the best fish and chips on the south coast, the frontage is allegedly gold leaf, and Harry Redknapp so much a regular there is a picture of him on the wall. The green and white interior tiles give a clean aesthetic, whilst the chairs are comfortable and the tables a practical size. The first thing you notice is how many people they have crammed in, the second being how old those people are. Various younger generations – children, grand children, great grand children – are all present, each with the common denominator of being here to have fish & chips with the oldies by the sea.
Almost everything sits around the fifteen quid mark with the offer of unlimited chips. Almost everything can be upgraded to an additional bread roll, a sauce, and a drink for an extra fiver. The wine isn’t great, the breads okay, the wait less so. It’s fifty minutes before our dinner arrives, though I assume most of that has been used to cook the cod that’s turned to cotton wool in the fryer. The rest of it is great. Excellent chips, mushy peas that have retained a freshness, really good curry sauce. The best of it is the scampi; plump breaded langoustine tails sympathetically cooked. These are superb. We don’t extend the unlimited chips past the plates we already have. These are serious portions.
The bill is £44 quid for two which isn’t much for dinner. Would I rush back? I’m not sure. I still have six days left in Bournemouth and aside from a dinner this week I’m really struggling for options that don’t involve sitting in Ojo Roja and drinking cocktails all night.
7/10
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