Pickled cucumber prompted a dumb grin: a slug-green whopper, store-bought but nicely sharp and charmingly sliced like a briny hassleback. Haddock, with a glistening hull of yielding, golden batter, may have lacked the dramatically craggy, echoing crunch of some specimens but it had what can be a rarity: actual, adroitly seasoned fish flavour. Mushy peas provided a comfortingly bland, vegetal backbeat. And then there were the chips: heftily cut, fried to order, and each delivering a fine-crisped, subtly sweet pleasure-jolt that you keep chasing long after the point of fullness.

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