Chish & Fips

Modestly tucked away underneath a railway arch on Mirabel Street, this contemporary chippy combines two supreme cuisines.

While maintaining its Japanese roots, it has given a new meaning to a chippy tea.

Previously Umezushi, a renowned restaurant recognised by the Michelin Guide and the like, owner Terry Huang decided to sack the sushi and take on a different culinary challenge.

Embracing the popular minimalist movement from Japan, buildable orders are taken via iPads.

It’s the simplistic self-service an unsociable teenager longs for and a perfect opportunity to mull over your options with no pressure.

It’s still not easy to choose though. And I like a chat!

The seductive seafood selection of prawns, salmon, cod, coley, monkfish, and scallops eyeing me up on the counter isn’t helping either.

Freshness and fips clearly go hand in hand, with only the finest and locally sourced ingredients used.

The character of Umezushi is painstakingly translated through this new venture – its hauntingly similar to its parent restaurant, making it clear this is evolution, not extinction.

Swapping fine dining for casual consuming, and wine pairings for an exclusive beer blend, these lot are out to disrupt the dining scene.

The light wood interior makes you feel like you are inside a piece of IKEA flat-pack furniture.

It suits it.

An ideal building material in Japan’s humid environment, it’s versatile, providing strength as well as comfort due to its flexibility.

Sleek and soft, its basic design complements the vibe whilst being obviously functional - which is the basis of the menu.

A buildable meal, a ‘fish box’ priced at £10 is the obvious option.

Choose your fish, veg, sprinkle, and sauce.

Battered, of course.

They know the drill, battered is better- one of the ten commandments of your conventional chip shop.

But these lot do it differently… there is an art to it you know.

Tempura batter is traditionally mixed over ice in Japan – a method Chish n Fips has taken inspiration from while incorporating their own flair.

The flour for the batter is frozen first, to stop gluten from forming.

Sparkling water is then added to the freezing mix, creating a thin and crispy batter.

Sounds simple, but it’s a swift and intricate task to acquire the right consistency.

Of course, Chish n Fips also have a secret ingredient – passion.

The tight-knit team is expertly trained and individually interested in the culinary exploits of Japan.

The delicacy and precision of the chefs is evident as I peer over the open plan kitchen watching them prep.

I’m sure we’ve all had the seafood debate.

Our ocean associates are the original marmite.

You’re either a fish fanatic like myself or you aren’t – but Chish and Fips might be enough to change that.

I chose my two favourite items on the menu, tiger king prawns, and sweet potato fries.

An elite combination on the worst of days, my expectations are high.

My dining partner opts for the scallops and traditional chips – a somewhat less eccentric option, but equally as appetising.

We wait for our food and chat with manager Jordan Dungworth.

He juggles his time between Chish & Fips and sister enterprise CoffeeB, situated just across the road.

This secluded street is fast becoming a haven for simple and stylish independents.

If this was a game of Monopoly, Terry Huang would be winning.

I struggle to hear Jordan over the boys in the kitchen giving it full Hibachi chef.

The openness of the restaurant might seem to contradict their contactless service, yet it allows them to continue the company and customer relationship in another way.

The obligatory chip shop toppings – salt and a bottle of Sarson’s vinegar - are littered across the wooden benches, stood in small wooden boats.

Who doesn’t love a nautical ornament?

They also contain Chish n Fips own sprinkles, which certainly bring some spice to this city centre sanctuary.

The selection of Japanese shichimi chilli, nori, pepper, and wasabi spice is very popular amongst customers.

There are also copies of ZOOM JAPAN, a monthly culture magazine, across the tables, providing some light literature to browse while waiting.

Food is served in staple chippy trays, but its contents have turned tradition on its head.

It’s the fine dining of the takeaway world, even lovingly garnished with some fresh parsley and a lemon slice.

I am greeted by the royalist king prawns, lightly covered in Tempura.

The batter almost acts as a temporary sleeping bag for the prawns – locking in the flavour, which is only released upon the first bite.

I am rewarded with a soft and succulent mouthful, setting the tone for the rest of the meal.

I eagerly route around my tray to grab some sweet potato fries, knocking off crispy chunks of the batter with my fork.

An inglorious accident I would thank myself for later.

Let’s have it right, sweet potato changed the game.

The colourful counterpart to its staple white spud sister, it has become an essential item on the weekly shopping list and a key accessory on any menu.

They were crisped to perfection, remaining sweet enough to create the perfect balancing act with the prawns.

This is the beauty of tempura - it only accentuates the original flavour, remaining delicate enough to not overpower the other elements.

Chips are a deal-breaker at any chip shop – too light and they’re like cardboard, too heavy, and your chewing bullets.

The thickness, cut, and crispness are the foundation of any good potato chips.

These glisten in the oodles of natural light- not greasy, but piping hot -the top trumps of chippy chips.

The scallops are left delicately resting on top, reminiscent of oysters lying on the bed of the ocean.

Lightly battered and cooked to perfection, they melt in your mouth.

Tender and sweet, they were delicious enough on their own: but after adding a sprinkle of shichimi chilli, they rocketed.

This is the sort of place you could even drag your nan, who’s had the same chippy order since 1967.

A feel of experimentation is in the air and it stirs it in each customer.

You can fill your boots at Chish and Fips, without feeling seat belted to your chair.

Japanese cuisine is predominantly light – vegetables are cooked quickly, almost blanched, to keep the natural colour, flavour, and nutrition.

Now, let’s talk sauce.

Brimming pots of peanut and miso, tentsuyu, and Japanese curry sauce are set in front of us. It’s only fair to try them all.

Homemade tartare sauce, mayonnaise, and ketchup are also up for grabs.

Forks are forfeited, lost between the chaos of four enthusiastic hands dipping in here and there.

My favourite is the tentsuyu.

A classic tempura dipping sauce, its thin composition easily infuses the batter with its sharp flavours.

Its main components: soy sauce and Mirin, are a primal force – it’s a transition through from salty, to sweet and then bitterness.

We’re slyly scraping our trays for the leftover tempura that had so satisfyingly flaked off earlier, a desperate attempt to devour every last crumb.

It's fair to say we enjoyed it.

Meddling with British tradition is often a death wish of sorts, especially concerning our chippys.

But this unconventional combintation seems to have paid off - I think I may have found my new Friday night fish fix.

It’s created an unusual middle ground of a low-cost, luxury take away – meaning it’s a few quid steeper than your average chip shop.

Reforming the chippy tea and injecting some individuality to Manchester's food scene is all in a days work for these guys.

It’s important to find your angle, your audience, and your abilities when re-introducing yourself to the dining world.

Umezushi left some big shoes to fill, but Chish n Fips is calmly riding the new wave of the Manchester food scene.

So, why not sod your usual scallop muffin for a week and try something new?

LIVS SOUND BITES

A succinct spin-off to the written reviews of Liv Who Lunches, Liv's Sound Bites allows you to hear the voices behind the businesses. So, pin your ears back for some gastronomic gossip and all the tantalizing takeaways from your favourite dining haunts.