Telephone: 01225 448707
Address: 6 Green Street, Bath, Somerset
Price: First courses, £6.90-£12.90; main courses, £10.90-£24.90. My lunch for two (with wine): £78.20
Open: Tues-Sat, lunch 12 noon-2.30pm, dinner 6-10.30pm; Sun lunch 11am-5pm. Wheelchair access (no disabled WC).
Why do guests on Desert Island Discs invariably choose pieces of music for their eight recordings, usually well-known excerpts from Mozart or Sinatra singing My Way? Music is all very fine and dandy, but if I were to be cast adrift on an uninhabited atoll, I'd soon be missing the sounds of everyday existence, which is why my choices would all be taken from BBC sound effects records. "Well, Sue," I'd begin, "for my first disc, I've chosen the comforting sound of EC1 4929-B, the recording of a Hoover on full suck ... I'd now like a Hotpoint entering the spin cycle ... then the sound of a food mixer, because it brings back bittersweet memories of childhood. You see, Sue, on baking day, my mother used to encourage me to lick the beaters ... while the mixer was full on. It's why I look like this."
As I was wandering the streets of Bath recently, miles from the nearest ocean, I initially thought that the noise of seagulls must be a sound effects recording emanating from loudspeakers at the top of the FishWorks building. But no, these gulls were the real thing, circling the open top-floor terrace in a menacing, Hitchcockian sort of way as they waited for that joyous end-of-day moment when the kitchen rubbish bins would provide them with a delicious takeaway supper. It was July, and I'd been walking down Quiet Street (paradoxically, one of the noisiest streets I've ever been in, due to nearby roadworks), when my olfactory senses spotted something and led me by that nose of mine along Green Street and up several flights of stairs to the restaurant above. Just as I can detect bad hydrogenated oil and industrial garlic powder from a mile away, so I can spot the inviting aroma of really fresh fish cooked with fresh garlic in the purest oil, and I could tell this would be a great place to eat.
Sporting an absurd hairdon't (as I do) can be a problem, because people tend to think I must be a drugs dealer, and as I went flying through the entrance in perfect equipoise (having tripped in the doorway), the waitress doubtless thought that I'd been sampling my own wares. But, being a true professional, she made no comment and showed me politely to my seat, where I sipped a refreshing glass of Albariño mar de frades (the truly classic fish wine) and considered my options. "Fish for the entire table," suggested the blackboard. "A whole turbot for four." That's just one of the many delights of eating here - because they also run a fishmonger's on the ground floor (where people are monging fish from dawn until dusk), groups of diners don't have to choose individual portions, but can instead select a single huge fish. Which is brill.
Having decided on a "light starter", I enjoyed some of the best taramasalata I've ever eaten. A world away from that vapid pink crap in tubs, this was truly the bee's knees, creamy and white with smoked cod's roe, olive oil and lemon (and, presumably, fresh organic knee of bee). The salted Cantabrian sea anchovies that followed were fat and exquisite, simply served with first-class olive oil, garlic and flat-leaf parsley. Within such a mixture, the anchovies were strong without being overpowering, though perhaps lacked the subtlety of the Spanish tapas version of the dish.
My guest (a dead ringer for Noggin the Nog, and a reliable piscophile) was fascinated by the concept of a whole sea bream cooked in sea salt, entombed within a huge saline sarcophagus. This outer casing is, of course, removed before serving, and at FishWorks the quality of the flesh within was exemplary, with any residual saltiness washed away by lemon juice. My roasted skate with black butter and capers was also a classic, although I must admit that I've only lately become an a-fish-ionado of this dish.
Pluckily countering a century of absurd prejudice, the restaurant offers several red wines to drink with fish, alongside plenty of whites. It's a brave move, although I don't agree with them that a merlot is a suitable accompaniment - a low-tannin beaujolais such as a Fleurie would work much better, and I know from past experience that it's perfect with sea bass (also, try it with some mature Brie de Meaux, and if you think I'm wrong, I'll eat my cat).
There are currently four FishWorks restaurants (Bath, Bristol, Chiswick and Christchurch), and those who've been to all of them tell me there isn't a rusty link in the chain. That's due in large measure to owner Mitchell Tonks, but also to the freshness and variety of fish on offer each day (the economies of selling directly to the public allow them to carry a selection that a stand-alone restaurant could never afford), along with the efficient and unfussy atmosphere. So why does it rate only one Michelin knife and fork? Presumably because of the snobbery of that self-appointed arbiter of gastronomic taste, which often seems more concerned with interior design than with food, as though we go to restaurants to eat the furniture. What nonsense. Although, to be fair, I did once get so carried away with a châteaubriand that I ate my way through an entire table and a set of chairs without realising.
