Belmont Bay Fish And Chips Menu

So there I was, standing in the drizzle outside Belmont Bay, trying to decide if the rain was worth the risk of soggy batter. A seagull—the audacious kind that looks you dead in the eye—had just swiped a chip from a toddler's tray. The kid wailed. The dad laughed. And I thought, this is the energy you need before tackling a fish and chips menu. If you’ve been there, you know: ordering wrong is a tragedy; ordering right is a minor triumph.

Let’s cut to the chase: the Belmont Bay Fish And Chips menu isn’t just a list of fried things. It’s a decision-making gauntlet disguised as a laminated sheet. You think you just want fish? Oh, honey, no. They have options that will make you question your loyalty to cod.

The Main Event: Fish, But Make It a Personality

First up, the Classic Beer-Battered Cod. This is the reliable friend who always shows up on time. The batter is light, crispy, and has that faint yeasty echo that says, “I was made in a pub.” But—and here’s the twist—they also offer a Haddock option. Haddock is flakier, sweeter, and a little more refined. Cod is the sturdy workhorse; haddock is the one who wears a scarf indoors. Pick your vibe.

Then there’s the Grilled Lemon Herb Salmon. Bold move for a fish-and-chip joint. It’s healthy, which feels almost rebellious next to the fryers. The salmon is moist, the herbs are bright, and you’ll eat it while looking at the fried cod on the next table with quiet regret. Or pride. You choose.

The Ethical Curveball

Oh, and they have a Panko-Crusted Trout special. I asked the server why trout. She shrugged and said, “It’s local, it’s sustainable, and it tastes like guilt-free butter.” I respect that. If you care about overfishing (or just want to sound cool at dinner), this is your move. The panko adds a shatter-crunch that makes you forget you’re being virtuous.

Sides: Where the Real Drama Lives

The Chips are non-negotiable. They’re thick-cut, double-fried (I assume, because magic doesn’t happen by accident), and come with a choice of malt vinegar or a tartar sauce that is clearly laced with fairy dust and dill. Honestly, I’d drink that sauce if it were socially acceptable.

But here’s the trap: the Sweet Potato Fries. They’re listed as a side, but they’re actually a personality test. Ordering them says, “I have unresolved feelings about paleo diets.” They’re good—crispy, salty-sweet—but you’ll spend the whole meal explaining to your friend why you didn’t get the regular chips. Just own it.

The Secret Weapon: Mushy Peas

If you see Mushy Peas on the menu, get them. They’re not a vegetable; they’re a condiment disguised as a side. Smear them on a chip. Dunk your fish in them. They’re bright green, slightly minty, and they cut through the grease like a witty punchline. Trust me—or don’t, and watch me eat them while you regret your life choices.

Starters and Little Things

The Salt and Pepper Calamari is dangerously good. It’s tender, not rubbery, and tossed in enough chili to make your nose run. Pro tip: order it as a “sharing plate” and then refuse to share. The Clam Chowder is thick, creamy, and has actual clams (not just a rumor of clams). It’s the kind of soup you want when the fog rolls in and your soul feels damp.

There’s also a Prawn Cocktail that feels like 1987 threw up on a plate—in the best way. Pink sauce, iceberg lettuce, a lemon wedge that you squeeze with theatrical flourish. It’s retro, it’s silly, and I love it unironically.

The Drinks: Because You’ll Be Thirsty

Belmont Bay has a local IPA on tap that pairs with the cod like they were made for each other. If you don’t drink beer, their Elderflower Fizz is a non-alcoholic option that’s floral, bubbly, and makes you feel like you’re in a British garden, not a coastal diner. Side note: they also sell root beer in a glass bottle. It’s not on the menu, but ask. The staff will wink. It’s a thing.

Dessert: A Fool’s Errand

You’re full. You’re greasy. You’re happy. Then you see Sticky Toffee Pudding on the menu. It’s a mistake to order it. Order it. It comes with custard that is warm, sweet, and feels like a hug from a British grandma. You will hate yourself tomorrow. You will do it again next week.

So here’s the truth: the Belmont Bay menu is a choose-your-own-adventure book with no wrong answers, except skipping the mushy peas. Go with a game plan, but let the drizzle and the seagulls guide your soul. And for the love of all that is crispy, don’t forget the tartar sauce.