Chip Shop

I inherited a taste for all things British and unhealthy from my skanky British grandmother (with the possible exception of British speed). When she bemoaned the lack of available pork pies in Manhattan, I thoroughly understood. I like 'em soaked in malt vinegar, myself, just like fish and chips. And wrapped in filthy newspaper? Even better. Newsprint runoff is a condiment I've learned to live without in these toxicity-phobic times.

The worst thing you can do to fish and chips is treat them like nouvelle cuisine. I had hopes for 2nd Ave.'s Telephone Bar & Grill, but the light, crisp batter and thinnish chips were a predictable disappointment. The chips should be thick slabs of potato, wilting under the pressure of excess vinegar and salt. I still have high hopes for A Salt & Battery, also on 2nd Ave., but it's really hard to find somebody to go with-deep-fried cod is a hard sell for many of today's youngish urbans.

So I was excited when Mykel Board's Eat Club decided to meet at the Chip Shop in Park Slope. Eat Club goes through the alphabet, hitting new restaurants each month. For X, they had to resort to Xenophobia; Q was Lucky Cheng's for, you guessed it, Queer; and the problem of Z was solved with Zen cuisine. Now they'd run through the alphabet and were back to B for British. The mismatching group-which includes me, a Japanese salaryman, a small family with two children, Mykel and an ESL teacher named Bob-all met at 7ish.

Bob and Mykel teach at a private Japanese company where businessmen and housewives learn the Expressways Method, which consists of practical conversations between A and B.

A: "That'll be $7.25."

B: "Did you say $7.25?"

And so on. Yasu is a salaryman (as Japanese businessmen are called without a wink of irony) and one of the more fun students there; he's also an avid Eat and Drink club attendee. At Drink Club, Mykel brings a conversation-starting print-out from alllooksame.com, where you look at pictures and guess who's Japanese, Chinese or Korean. A Drink or Eat Club coat of arms is pinned up near our table, which can host anywhere from two to 15 attendees.

Back to fish and chips, which we ordered immediately. On a recent trip to London, I went to the classy British Museum Pub and learned that I wasn't required to have cod every single time. So instead, I got the battered haddock and chips for $10.50. The chips were thickly cut, as they should be, and though the coating of the fish was not completely greasy-and thus not perfect-it was much better than a nouvelle rendition.

I considered myself lucky to get this close to an authentic British entree. I was certainly luckier than Yasu, who sat staring glumly at his steak and onion pie. Mykel got the steak and kidney pie, which he found to be a little on the dry side: "It should be bloodier!"

Amanda, our spunky 13-year-old companion, was less adventurous. "Maybe if it sounded better! I mean, who would want to eat 'spotted dick'?"

Continuing with the international flavor of the evening, Yasu told us that in Japan, mayonnaise and tartar sauce are the same thing. When I let him try real tartar sauce with my fish, he liked it much better than his pie, which did not have the dry, tightly packed charm of a pork pie. Perhaps the fried fish reminded him of tempura.

Yasu, who works for a huge promotion firm that has brought both Janet Jackson and the World Wrestling Federation to Tokyo, pulled out a tape recorder. He's been working on a spot for a Japanese radio station; his interview subjects start by exclaiming "I love New York!" then answer a series of polite questions. Please tell us your name. Please tell us your occupation. Please tell us your goals and dreams in New York. Please tell us your pleasant memories of the Thanksgiving Day in the past?

Amanda answered all the questions before sampling the fried Mars Bar. "Her talk is like machine gun!" Yasu commented. I didn't much like the fried Mars Bar, but had needed proof: I wanted it to be good, but I was disappointed.

Yasu sampled the trifle. "Not too sweet, it's good," he said. "Pretty sweet," he amended, trying out his English just a little bit more.

383 5th Ave. (6th St.), Park Slope, 718-CHIP-SHOP.

-Jennifer Blowdryer