Supermarine Seafood: Fish-forward eatery has the soggy batter blues

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Why is it that in Vancouver – a port city anchored on the Pacific Ocean – it is easier to find an al pastor taco than a platter of fish and chips?

When it comes to casual neighbourhood dining, sushi has become the go-to seafood default. And that's terrific. We're the envy of the world. But there is life beyond the California roll. Or burgers. And pasta. Where are all the po' boys and chowders?

For residents of Kitsilano, Supermarine Seafood & Cocktails has been deployed to the rescue.

You may remember it as Abigail's Kitchen, a casual local joint that had great cocktails and late-night kitchen service. Owners James Iranzad and Josh Pape (who also operate Wildebeest in Gastown and Pizzeria Bufala in Kerrisdale) freshened the space and changed the concept last summer. After an uncertain start – they are now on their third chef – Supermarine has settled into a sweet spot.

I wouldn't go so far as to call it a seafood restaurant. The kitchen doesn't offer any of the usual suspects (oysters, salmon, crab, etc.) or an extensive fresh sheet.

The dinner menu is capsule-size. And at brunch, you will hardly find any seafood at all (only shrimp and grits).

Let's call it a fish-forward restaurant that snugly fits the needs of the neighbourhood.

A short stroll away from the beach, it's a bright, breezy room with lots of windows and whitewashed brick. Deep, caramel-leather booths invite you to sink in and relax. Weathered wrought iron and dried flower bouquets have a worn-in intimacy. The lighting fixtures, hung from maze of copper piping zigzagged across the ceiling, are an interesting talking point.

It's the kind of place you can bring the kids for brunch, brush knees under the table on an awesome first date or catch up with an old girlfriend at the compact bar tucked into a tight corner.

Bartender Adam Domet mixes some impressive cocktails that include a peppery horseradish sour and the refreshingly palate-cleansing beer, bourbon and bitter Saint Nick.

The servers are consummate professionals who can guide you through the diverse wine list. This is a restaurant group with high standards. They know what they're doing and understand what they want.

What they wanted from the kitchen was quality, casual seafood with a playful touch. The first chef was a bit too serious. The second was just passing through. The third chef, Austin Ratcliffe, has been at Supermarine from the beginning, as sous-chef. Before that, he cooked at Wildebeest and has been in the family for 2 1/2 years.

He does a fine job when he sticks to comfort food. His finger-licking octopus chips are barely battered, fried to light chewy crisp and liberally sprinkled with flaky sea salt.

Caesar salad gets a toothsome twist with deeply charred Brussels sprouts and slippery, pickled white anchovy fillets. Tender octopus ceviche is a dark, funky umami bomb drenched in fish sauce, yet balanced with bright dabs of silky citrus-avocado purée.

Crispy-skinned Pacific snapper is cut into bite-sized pieces (making it easy to share) and served over top an excellent white-bean cassoulet loaded with chunky smoked lardons in a richly reduced broth fortified with lots of white wine.

There are a few nods to the Maritimes, which is nice for a change. But the heavy creaminess of East Coast cooking can sometimes taste stodgy to our Asian-adjusted West Coast palates.

Smoked whitefish is a fun dish, served in a Mason jar with hot sauce in a squeeze tube and saltine crackers for dipping. It's too bad the cream overpowers the smokiness and you can't taste the fish. And there is really no need to smear the crackers with sweet browned butter. This dish is already rich enough.

Tuna crudo is another dish in which the delicate fish has been swamped by too many competing flavours. I tasted roasted garlic chips, tangy yuzu mayo, greasy puffed pork skins, charred blood orange – everything but the fish.

I could certainly taste – and smell – the Saltspring mussels, in an otherwise pleasant dark-beer broth. Fresh mussels should smell like a clean beach. These mussels smelled like a beach overrun with wet, mucky dogs. They may have been out of water for too long.

But the biggest letdown was the fish in the fish and chips. There were many great elements on this plate. The meaty fish itself – snapper again – was steamed inside its smooth, golden-flour coating to lush flakiness.

A ribboned celery and cucumber salad was dressed with a perfectly balanced vinaigrette. Malted vinegar aioli was a sinus-clearing punch delivered in a silky cream glove.

It was all great except for the batter, which was soggy inside. It's a common mistake – either the batter was too thick or, more likely, the temperature of the oil was too low. But it's a big problem for a seafood restaurant.

No matter how casual, a place that specializes in fish shouldn't be messing up the most basic of basics.