Cod N All Fish & Chip Shop

Alright, grab a cuppa and pull up a chair, because I need to tell you about a little slice of fried, golden heaven. We’re talking about Cod N All, the fish and chip shop that doesn’t just serve food—it serves a vibe. You know the kind of place where the salt and vinegar are applied with the reverence of a Michelin star chef? Yeah, that’s this spot.

First things first: the chips. Oh, the chips. They’re not those sad, anemic fries you get at a dodgy food van. No, these are proper, chunky, twice-cooked beauties. They’re fluffy on the inside, like a hug from your nan, and dangerously crunchy on the outside. I’m pretty sure there’s a secret handshake required to get the batter that perfect. (I tried to bribe my way in with a packet of prawn crackers. It didn’t work.)

And the fish? Cod N All lives up to its name. The cod is so fresh it practically winked at me from the fryer. The batter is light, crispy, and golden—like a little edible blanket for the flaky, sweet fish inside. Honestly, it’s the kind of meal that makes you close your eyes and do a little happy wiggle in your seat. I may or may not have made eye contact with a stranger across the table and nodded in mutual, silent reverence. We knew.

But here’s the best part: this isn’t some stuffy, white-tablecloth affair. The shop has that perfect, greasy-spoon charm—worn vinyl stools, a slightly sticky floor, and a queue that moves faster than your appetite. The folks behind the counter? Absolute legends. They’ll call you “love” or “mate” with zero irony, and if you ask for extra scraps, they’ll toss in a handful like it’s a state secret. Pro tip: save room for a side of mushy peas. They’re the unsung heroes of the plate—minty, mushy, and weirdly perfect.

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Yes, you could get fancier takeaway elsewhere, but why would you? Cod N All is a declaration of joy. It’s the place you go after a terrible Tuesday, a sunny Saturday, or a rainy Thursday that just won’t quit. It’s comfort without complication, happiness wrapped in newspaper (well, a nice cardboard box now, but the spirit is there).

So here’s my final thought, friend: next time life feels a bit soggy, like a chip left out too long, go to Cod N All. Order the cod. Double the chips. Get the mushy peas. And as you bite into that perfect, salty, crunchy, fluffy masterpiece, remember this: some problems can’t be solved by deep-frying, but nearly all of them can be postponed while you eat this. You’ll walk out with a full belly, a greasy smile, and the warm, fuzzy certainty that everything is, for at least five minutes, absolutely, brilliantly fine.