It’s a typical Tweet: ‘The grilled seafood plate to share has been flying out! Skate wing, sea bass, gurnard, mussels, scallops, white prawns, day boat squid, courgette salad, salsa verde and fresh cut chips… come and get it!’
And suddenly, you’re transported to a seafood shack on the Dorset coast, or one of those high-end destination diners in Cornwall, or a harbourside restaurant in Marseille. Except you’re not; you’re destined for The Scallop Shell, the funky, vibrant deep sea diner on an erstwhile mundane thoroughfare in Bath (Monmouth Street, to be precise) where all the cooking action goes on in a lively open kitchen behind an ice-filled bath tub and, on the upper floor, a fairly light lit, stone walled terrace off the banquette booth-lined contempo-cosy dining room (complete with smart little bar) further endorses the feeling that you’ve found both food and mood nirvana.
The Scallop Shell (est. 2015) is the brainchild of Garry Rosser: a chef whose passion and enthusiasm for seafood knows no bounds. Garry’s super-fresh, super-accessible dishes focus on the sheer joy of well-priced, cleanly presented, responsibly sourced fish and seafood… and no catches. Want to ask Garry (or a member of his family; both TSS and little takeaway sister venture The Oyster Shell on Moorland Road are family businesses in the truest sense of the words) more about what he does so well? He can often be found beyond the pass or even front of house, and is always only ever too happy to chat, and both he and his chefs have shared many a fish cooking tip with me on many occasions. Anyway…
The other day, there were braised Cornish spider crab legs with chilli, garlic and coriander trending on the Scallop Shell’s social media timelines. Not so long ago, fish stew with croutons and garlic aioli were on the Specials board; depending on the season, there might be rock oysters, or wild white prawns, or rope-grown mussels on the menu. There’s usually Enderby smoked salmon somewhere on the line-up, and of course cod, hake, monkfish, sole skate and more all make regular appearances.
Last time we visited, we were treated to a sneak preview of utterly divine Haddock Croquettes that hadn’t quite yet made the official menu: luxurious, smoked haddock-infused Béchamel encased in crispy, crunchy jackets, each little barrel of delight gone in two bites but destined to live long in the memory. We shared a Sea Bass fillet accompanied by an extremely moreish salsa-type affair too, and a classic, old school prawn cocktail complete with a soft boiled egg too, at which point we agreed that, had we stopped right there, we’d enjoyed an elegantly sufficient supper… but we were there to push the boat out.
We could have further upped the ‘elegant’ ante and ordered three more starters, to share (as you might expect, the scallops served here are always, always reliable perfect). We could have had good old cod and chips (needless to say, the many cod and chip suppers I’ve had here have never been bettered), or a smoked salmon fishcake, or even a Gloucester Old Spot pork chop (yes, really). But our date night catch of the day was whole Brill for two, served in all its slightly sweet, meaty, clean, brilliant brilliance, accompanied by the kind of fat, fresh chips that even the most gastro of gastropubs (by the way, do people still use the word ‘gastropub’?) would have you believe have been consigned to the file marked ‘Bygone Era’, scattered hither and thither with capers, and fresh parsley, and little pools of its own juices; to call it all a mere ‘good eat’ would nowhere near have done our fabulous feast justice.
And after all that, we tossed a coin that could have led to Sticky Toffee Pudding but landed on the side of Chocolate Mousse with Clotted Cream Ice Cream instead… because hey, when you’ve been for a deep-sea dive, you’ve earned your pud, yes?
The Prandial Playground, Bath and Beyond... 