To say the name of this restaurant correctly, pronounce the first syllable like the prow of a boat (“bough”), off of which fish are picked from a net. In fact, Bowpicker is a boat – a small fishing vessel now marooned on dry land. The fish and chips it serves are some of the best I’ve had anywhere. The fish is albacore tuna, dense and meaty, big hunks of it enveloped in a golden beer-batter coat. When I asked a member of the staff what made it so delicious, she answered, “It’s a secret. But we don’t know what the secret is.”
The fish is available as a five-piece platter or a three piece. The chips that come alongside are nice, thick-cut spuds, but the fish itself is so good that I didn’t want to use up too much appetite on them.
Bowpicker is a tiny place, so small that you don’t go into it. You walk up to it along a sort of permanent gangplank where you place your order and receive the food. As for dining facilities, they consist of a couple of picnic tables. I saw several customers dining off their dashboards.