Saturday, March 9, 2013

London bound, and F and I find ourselves in transit on a Friday.  We’re in Detroit waiting.  It’s a nice, clear night for flying.  We’re hungry, though and want a good meal before we climb into our 31x 21 inch cuboidal spaces for the next 7.5 hours. 

Me: “Are you hungry?”

F: “Yes.”

Me: “What are you hungry for?”

F: “It’s Friday.  Fish, of course”

So, we head off down the concourse looking for our meal.  A sports bar looked promising, but It was quite a ways off.  If you’ve flown through Detroit you know the airport is a mile long straight hallway with 78 gates. 

We passed by a National Coney Island Dine with a sign that screamed Lenten Special.  Not one, not two, but three different fish dishes.   We opted for this place. 

As with most airport eateries, we were efficiently seated.  Drink orders were taken before we made a dent in our booth cushions. 

A quick perusal of the menu revealed this to be a likely greek influenced place.  Big, fat greek salads, gyros, etc.  But, we weren’t here for all that.  We were here for fish. 

The three dishes were battered Alaskan cod, Battered Wahoo and a fried fish wrap of some sort.  We gave the wrap a miss.   The photo stimulated more questions than appetites.  We stuck with more classic dishes. 

Felix had the wahoo.  Well-seasoned, though a bit dry.  I had the cod, also, well-seasoned.  Mine was very good.  Crunchy, flaky and moist inside.  Fries were good once we salted them.   Condiments were limited to tartar sauce and ketchup.  They were sparing with the tartar sauce and we could have used some vinegar, but overall good. 

Also, included was a salad.  It was fresh and some point earlier in the day.  Homemade greek dressing made up for the not-so-fresh feeling.

We had great service by a pleasant and tastefully tattooed woman.  I always wonder about the type of tattoos people choose.  Hers were John Lennon lyrics in the shape of hearts and peace signs. 

The biggest surprise was the cost.  9 bucks per!  Exactly the same price as in the  church basements and fellowship halls.  Minus the $5 beer and tip and we’re out for under 20 bucks at an airport!  You even get the added ambience of high efficiency and TSA recordings. 

Afterward, I found the “Religious Reflection Room” and thought about having F teach me about the Stations of the Cross, but it seemed there was a TSA meeting letting out and the room was kind of full. Who knew?

More from some random pub in London.  Watch this space. 

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