The Fishery

A brick-walled seafood workshop with the manners of a white-tablecloth room and the soul of a harbor shack. Walk in at lunch and you hear the clink of glass, the low hum of conversational waves, and servers moving with quiet purpose. Plates arrive with steam and no fuss: a swordchop seared to a lacquered crust, sardines bright with acid, calamari that snaps and then melts. The market counter at the back is its own argument for freshness, whole fish on ice like trophies. The cooking favors clean edges and bright seasoning, not gilded tricks. Couples and small families come for serious fish and a bottle chosen by a sommelier who knows restraint. Portions are generous enough to share, prices nudge upscale, and the salmon collar will make you forget what you thought you knew about texture, fat, and smoke as it flakes on the fork.