The Ship
The Augusta Street district of Hamilton has become known for the quality and quantity of its pubs. The Cat and Fiddle and the Winking Judge are noted for their longevity; the Pheasant Plucker and Aout and About are recognized for their comraderie.
One of the newer residents of the avenue is The Ship, previously the Spotted Pig, previously the much-missed salon de thé, Delicieux. It has undergone these transformations rapidly, in the last three to four years, but the nautical theme appears to have been the winner, appearing to be popular with the locals. We threw on our most casual ascot and a pair of our more cheerful cuff-links and sallied forth for dinner on a cold and snowy evening.
If one were to summarize the tone and tenor of The Ship as a restaurant, one would necessarily identify it as a pub that is popular with that bearded, flannel-wearing segment of the younger generation known by the term -- and we hope our research has not failed us here -- as "hipistes". Their horn-rimmed glasses and wool cardigans are dotted about the place, even counting among their number, if we are not mistaken, the proprietor of the pub itself. We tolerate -- nay, demand -- that personal style be the choice of its wearer, so long at it is worn with grace and confidence; however, we took note of the clientèle in order to make sense of the décor in the establishment.
The walls are strewn with what might, in a pub with a different set of patrons, be taken as earnest references to maritime culture. Paintings of clippers, clay busts of grizzled sailors' visages, and yes, even the requisite fish-net draped along the wall were all among the bric-a-brac meeting the eye in any direction. But given the look of the customers, we suspect that the effect of these accoutrements is intended to be "ironic" -- not in its literary, or what one might call its actual, sense, but in that more common modern sense which might best be defined as "something which I find funny, but I know not why".
But no matter. The décor is agreeable enough, and we had arrived not to look, but to consume. We began with pints of beer, and on this score we entreated the server to identify for us a beer of the darker sort -- we felt that, when rubbing elbows in a maritime pub, a pint of something black might endear us more easily to the locals. The server informed us that they had no dark beers tapped at the moment, but offered a selection of red and amber beers that might meet our approval. We glanced towards the bar and found that, indeed, a good dozen or so beer-taps were on display, so we selected a Mill Street Extra Special Bitter, which was indeed quite enjoyable.
We perused the menu for some time. It is comprised mainly of sea-food items, from the common, fish and chips, to the interesting, salmon pot pie, to the unexpected, alligator and chips. A small number of interesting terrestrial dishes were also on offer, particularly a sausage and sweet potato shepherd's pie; and indeed, the special that night was a caribou Hamburger-sandwich topped with mushrooms. Having heard that the venue's reputation for sea-food preparation was quite positive, we opted for halibut, which was to be breaded, fried, and served in the style of a Hamburger sandwich. Our dining companion, who dines at The Ship rather more often than we, chose instead the special.
The meals were served reasonably quickly, and our disappearing beverages were replaced to fortify us for the repast as well. We are pleased to report that cook in the galley is quite capable; although we do not see great challenge in breading and frying fish, we find it a task far too often performed incompetently. But out halibut was crisply fried but not greasy, had a coating that afforded an appropriate snap, but was not overly thick; the fish itself was hot, flaky, and moist. Paired with lettuce and homemade tartar sauce, we felt this was an excellent approach to the fish-sandwich problem.
The caribou Hamburger-sandwich was a rather surprising tower of meat and condiments. Our server arrived shortly before our suppers to inform our companion that the chef was nearly out of mushrooms, and that he hoped our companion would accept, in lieu of a full complement of mushrooms, cheese on the sandwich instead. Our companion acquiesced, and his chopped caribou steak was indeed topped with a great deal of cheddar cheese, as well as no real shortage of mushrooms. The meal was by all accounts quite toothsome.
The only slight hiccough in the evening came with the cheque; the halibut sandwich, which was marked at $13 on the bill of fare, was in fact charged at $14.69 in the final accounting. While we do not deny the higher price was appropriate for the well-made meal, and we chose not to bring the discrepancy to the attention of the server, we were nevertheless slightly annoyed at the mistake. However, we decided that the server was probably not at all at fault, and tipped generously for her attentiveness.
In all, The Ship is a welcome addition to the Augusta corridor. Well-made food of a slightly different bent from the typical pub food is always welcome, and we intend to return to sample further items from their menu.
One of the newer residents of the avenue is The Ship, previously the Spotted Pig, previously the much-missed salon de thé, Delicieux. It has undergone these transformations rapidly, in the last three to four years, but the nautical theme appears to have been the winner, appearing to be popular with the locals. We threw on our most casual ascot and a pair of our more cheerful cuff-links and sallied forth for dinner on a cold and snowy evening.
If one were to summarize the tone and tenor of The Ship as a restaurant, one would necessarily identify it as a pub that is popular with that bearded, flannel-wearing segment of the younger generation known by the term -- and we hope our research has not failed us here -- as "hipistes". Their horn-rimmed glasses and wool cardigans are dotted about the place, even counting among their number, if we are not mistaken, the proprietor of the pub itself. We tolerate -- nay, demand -- that personal style be the choice of its wearer, so long at it is worn with grace and confidence; however, we took note of the clientèle in order to make sense of the décor in the establishment.
The walls are strewn with what might, in a pub with a different set of patrons, be taken as earnest references to maritime culture. Paintings of clippers, clay busts of grizzled sailors' visages, and yes, even the requisite fish-net draped along the wall were all among the bric-a-brac meeting the eye in any direction. But given the look of the customers, we suspect that the effect of these accoutrements is intended to be "ironic" -- not in its literary, or what one might call its actual, sense, but in that more common modern sense which might best be defined as "something which I find funny, but I know not why".
But no matter. The décor is agreeable enough, and we had arrived not to look, but to consume. We began with pints of beer, and on this score we entreated the server to identify for us a beer of the darker sort -- we felt that, when rubbing elbows in a maritime pub, a pint of something black might endear us more easily to the locals. The server informed us that they had no dark beers tapped at the moment, but offered a selection of red and amber beers that might meet our approval. We glanced towards the bar and found that, indeed, a good dozen or so beer-taps were on display, so we selected a Mill Street Extra Special Bitter, which was indeed quite enjoyable.
We perused the menu for some time. It is comprised mainly of sea-food items, from the common, fish and chips, to the interesting, salmon pot pie, to the unexpected, alligator and chips. A small number of interesting terrestrial dishes were also on offer, particularly a sausage and sweet potato shepherd's pie; and indeed, the special that night was a caribou Hamburger-sandwich topped with mushrooms. Having heard that the venue's reputation for sea-food preparation was quite positive, we opted for halibut, which was to be breaded, fried, and served in the style of a Hamburger sandwich. Our dining companion, who dines at The Ship rather more often than we, chose instead the special.
The meals were served reasonably quickly, and our disappearing beverages were replaced to fortify us for the repast as well. We are pleased to report that cook in the galley is quite capable; although we do not see great challenge in breading and frying fish, we find it a task far too often performed incompetently. But out halibut was crisply fried but not greasy, had a coating that afforded an appropriate snap, but was not overly thick; the fish itself was hot, flaky, and moist. Paired with lettuce and homemade tartar sauce, we felt this was an excellent approach to the fish-sandwich problem.
The caribou Hamburger-sandwich was a rather surprising tower of meat and condiments. Our server arrived shortly before our suppers to inform our companion that the chef was nearly out of mushrooms, and that he hoped our companion would accept, in lieu of a full complement of mushrooms, cheese on the sandwich instead. Our companion acquiesced, and his chopped caribou steak was indeed topped with a great deal of cheddar cheese, as well as no real shortage of mushrooms. The meal was by all accounts quite toothsome.
The only slight hiccough in the evening came with the cheque; the halibut sandwich, which was marked at $13 on the bill of fare, was in fact charged at $14.69 in the final accounting. While we do not deny the higher price was appropriate for the well-made meal, and we chose not to bring the discrepancy to the attention of the server, we were nevertheless slightly annoyed at the mistake. However, we decided that the server was probably not at all at fault, and tipped generously for her attentiveness.
In all, The Ship is a welcome addition to the Augusta corridor. Well-made food of a slightly different bent from the typical pub food is always welcome, and we intend to return to sample further items from their menu.
posted by the Droll Bastard at 3:08 a.m.
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