A month ago, Eamonn’s: A Dublin Chipper joined the yuppie insurgency sweeping through Arlington’s Columbia Pike corridor. Time will tell whether a snobby fish-and-chips joint can survive the semi-discerning palates of my neighborhood. But really now, can you screw up fish and chips? I mean, it’s fried fish and fries.
The Arlington Eamonn’s is the restaurant’s second location, after enjoying a little success with its first storefront in Old Town Alexandria. The Columbia Pike Eamonn’s is connected to TNT, which bills itself as a “rock-and-roll bar” (whatever that means) that sells overpriced cocktails (I know exactly what that mean$). The interior of the bar and the adjoining restaurant was soaked with red and black. I thought it was a little soon to go to hell, but I decided to roll with the punches and step inside. At least it was warm and there was booze.
We elbowed our way to a couple of empty spots at TNT’s bar. I ordered two chunks of fried cod for my chiseled bedroom body, while the wife had a “hamburgher,” which turned out to be a burger. Those silly Irish – their spelling is as bad as their teeth. And their football team.
The cod was white and flaky, and the batter wasn’t too thick or thin. The wife’s burgher was “sufficient in quantity and quality,” as we used to note in the officer of the day logbook back at my old battalion. Neither of our orders knocked our socks off. Our verdict: Meh … and it’s impossible to screw up fish and chips.
The ugly postscript to this blog entry about fish-and-chips ended at a hotel bar in Fairfax, where I bit into a hunk of fried fish that was so salty that it stung my tongue. I dared my bartender to try it, but she balked. To be fair, the kitchen was overwhelmed with diners that evening and I got comped for the make-up meal and a pint of Guinness.
My make-up meal was a turkey sandwich. You can’t screw up a turkey sandwich, can you?