ONLY THE BLOG KNOWS BROOKLYN RESTAURANTS_BROOKLYN FISH CAMP

by Paul Leschen

Mary had a little Fish Camp whose clientele was…OK, I won’t go there. A certain blogger and I met for lunch last week at Brooklyn Fish Camp, a bright baby-blue beacon of the seafaring life on the formerly raunchiest block in Park Slope. It is an offshoot of Mary’s Fish Camp, in the West Village, and because of its proven track record, is an instant classic.

Along with the Blue Ribbon restaurants and the brand new Night and Day, Fish Camp is part of a West Village migration to Fifth Avenue. These dining spots have an advantage over the homegrown competition in that they have already played the game on even more dangerous turf and won. To pay West Village rent and be able to afford to build a second home in occupied Brooklyn is a hell of an accomplishment. It can also mean a shrewd business sense…but no matter what corners Fish Camp cuts (small wine list, only one type of oyster, small cramped space) they’ll make it up to you by providing fresh, generously-portioned and dependably tasty seafood.

Dinner on a crowded night proved impossible for me the first time I tried to eat there. The line couldn’t fit in the small bar area, and fists were flying. Lunch was another story; the room seemed calm, the pace relaxed. I was able to appreciate the cool black and white photographs on the walls that serve as an NYC-stylized replacement for ropes, anchors, and wooden steering wheels.

Start with a beer; the tap selections are perfect for clams and fishes. The wine list is small and familiar—I’d rather a more varied selection of whites, maybe a Gruner Veltliner or something austere from France. Appetizers lean toward the unkosher. We shared a half dozen firm, saline Malpeque oysters—nothing wrong with ‘em.

I had to get the lobster roll. It’s famous round these parts. Maybe a lesser-known lobster roll would cost less than $23. The trick, I think, is that the lobster chunks are removed from the shell and tossed in a relatively light mayonnaise-based sauce right before being served. The roll itself is fresh baked and holds up to the salad. I can imagine paying $15 up in Maine somewhere for a scoop of premade lobster salad atop a dry commercial-quality roll. Still, Brooklyn Fish Camp’s lobster roll is the most expensive sandwich I’ve ever had and many of you, despite the unquestionable deliciousness, will feel ripped off. It’s a sandwich. Served with a mound of fries. Which are addictive.

My highly literary and congenial dining partner ordered the Mako Shark BLT. There weren’t any flaws, it was well built and the shark filet was expertly grilled. But I didn’t see stars. Maybe more profound bacon like that available at Stone Park would have put this one over the top. The spicy onion rings get an A for effort, but onion rings are greasy and there are only so many square inches of them that I can ingest without having visions of myself splayed face-down on the floor of a small rural house while photographers point wide-angle lenses at me for my photo spread in the supermarket tabloids as “world’s fattest piano player.”

Everyone’s food looked better than ours, especially the catch-of-the-day entrees, and yet we both enjoyed ourselves. I can trust these guys, at least during off-peak times. And I’m finding more and more that dining in the neighborhood is all about trust (when it’s not about being adventurous).