Noah’s, Bristol BS1: ‘One of the nicest restaurants I’ve come across in years’

Noah’s is on Spike Island. That’s Noah’s the fish restaurant, not the builder of the biblical ark, and that’s Spike Island in Bristol, not the Spike Island in Cheshire that was taken over by the Stone Roses back in 1990. It’s important to clear these things up. Spike Island in Bristol is an old harbour area with working boatyards, art spaces, a museum and several pubs.
If people tell you that Noah’s is “a funny little place under a flyover”, do believe them. Does anyone, I wonder, visit this place for the first time, see its odd, curved-timber structure hiding where you’d expect only skateboarders to congregate, and not wonder if they are lost? Inside, however, once you’ve climbed up a small set of steps, all uncertainty falls away. This is an elegant space in which to have a proper lunch, with turquoise banquettes, a smattering of maritime decor and a terrace at the back for warmer days. The place has about it a “Captain Birdseye opens a fancy 1980s wine bar with Simon Le Bon” vibe – and in the best possible sense.
Noah’s is, essentially, a fish and chip restaurant, a term that has become so sullied over the years that I’ve kept my powder dry, until now. Good fish and chip restaurants in Britain are hard to find these days. We are instead awash with poor fish and chips, or passable fish and chips with poor seating options, or franchised fish and chip chains such as Harry Ramsden’s and Poppies, about which I have little nice to say, so I am now opting to say nothing about them at all.
Noah’s is owned by Daniel and Joie Rosser (Daniel’s father Garry runs the Scallop Shell in Bath, a real local favourite). It opened in May last year, and has already been named the UK’s third best chippy at the National Fish & Chip awards. It is that rare breed of chip shop that underpromises and then overdelivers, ostensibly focusing on battered cod or haddock with chips, mushy peas and tartare sauce, but also offering at least a dozen types of spankingly fresh fish and shellfish from Brixham and Newlyn. Expect the likes of Cornish sole with brown butter, parsley and capers; south coast thornback ray wing with romesco and, at the more expensive end of the menu, monkfish tail with mussels for two.
You could also spend half an hour here dining relatively cheaply, especially if you stick to the “lock keeper’s lunch” menu, where a small portion of the Atlantic cod or Cornish haddock with chips, peas and a mug of Yorkshire Tea comes in at all of £12.95. Or you could clear the afternoon diary, splash out, order a round of Bristol gin 77s and some fresh sourdough from the city’s lauded Lievito bakery, then work your way through the menu’s “start and share” section, where Portland princess rock oysters sit side by side with hand-dived Orkney scallops, order one of the day’s “market landings”, perhaps with a side of cabbage with pancetta or Isle of White tomato salad, before tackling the pudding list. If you came here expecting a chippy with a bit of seating, you’ll be delighted to find a menu with more joie de vivre than your standard megabucks speciality seafood restaurant.
Take, for example, a starter of confit tuna belly on sourdough toast, which was a perfect meeting of just blushingly pink fish on some excellent tomato concasse laced with shallots, capers and parsley, and doused in great olive oil. It was a generous portion, too, and beautifully balanced in its vinegary, fishy, crunchy, oily loveliness. My lock keeper’s lunch featured two small, crunchy battered cod fillets, chips, homemade tartare sauce served in a scallop shell, plus a side of perfect sweet, tastefully orange “chip shop” curry sauce. Yes, I did have a mug of Yorkshire Tea with my lunch. Why do more restaurants not offer this?
The day’s special was a huge chunk of grilled brill on the bone that came with mussels, chives and brown butter, which Charles ate with Noah’s potato salad. If you ordered the latter expecting that pale, mayo-bound, spring onion-flecked stuff you see in supermarket fridges, this potato salad, dressed with shallots, capers, parsley and moscatel vinegar, will be a revelation. Other menu highlights were world-class Orkney scallops, served nicely browned and with tender flesh in a sea of garlic butter, and huge, grilled wild Atlantic prawns that came with their heads on and whiffing of sea salt and thyme.
Do stay for pudding, too, because Noah’s takes it very seriously. The lemon posset with tiny homemade shortbread biscuits was exquisite, while if you wanted something truly sating, go for the rich, lightly whipped chocolate with clotted cream ice-cream.
Noah’s is an odd little place down a not-very-pretty road. At face value, it seems to set out its stall mostly as a glorified chippy, but that is the fishiest of claims. It is, in fact, one of the nicest restaurants I’ve come across in years.