Fish restaurant Likeable place with interesting ideas. Weird meal, though

AH yeah, I get what they’re up to here. They’ve fired a few straggly seaweedy things at the high open pipework on that ceiling, plunked a moody picture of some langoustines on the wall, put up an octopus mural and suddenly it’s a sustainable seafood restaurant. Taaraa.

And yet, with its window-hugging booths, glass box vibe and high bar area right at the top of the town this place has a classy, comfy, slightly Sex and the City vibe.

There are even some out-of-season Americans at the booth next to me, so reassuringly voluble that I almost forget I’m not actually in their chat and have to resist the temptation to lean over and boom: ‘You paid how much for a breakfast!’

I quickly finished my squid: a fresh, hot, tangy and largely diced salad of mango and habanero salsa that sits comfortably with the deftly handled seafood, all enticingly crunchy and light batter, and micro sliced squidlings.

Then it was on to a reasonable hunk of seared coley, some more chunks, this time of very salty ham hough, and a huge dollop of a fairly bland parsley emulsion. I’ve got to say: this is already better than I was expecting from the anonymous first impression I got as I walked from that outdoor seating area towards Kelp.

These are the small plates, of course, but it’s Scottish seafood, Jim, and at £8 and £10 respectively they’ve resisted the temptation to go as completely mad as restaurants often do with the fishy pricing.

Then the chicken fried skate wing arrives. Cue the music from Jaws...dun dun, dun dun. Now, this sounded excitingly different on the menu. I was so much expecting some US-style golden-something that when a skate wing completely drowned in a creamylooking sauce arrives, I look up at the waiter with a giant ‘Uh’ floating in the speech bubble above my head.

Chicken-fried, in Cowcaddens anyway, apparently means shallow pan fried. Er, isn’t that the way it’s usually cooked, I mutter to myself, as I delve in and hit bone immediately. Bizarrely, they’ve plated it upside down.

By the time I flip it and start over again, the bland chicken and tarragon sauce has glooped with the fish. Or has this skate, which is itself extremely mushy and deeply unpleasant, been lazily floured? Ugh anyway. Nul points here.

And nul points for the £4 chunky catering pack-style fries which are unevenly cooked.

While I’m at it, what’s going on with this salad?

Pickled samphire, parsley and radish sounded unusual and also tantalising yet it’s so tightly packed with greenery that I literally have to start unloading some of it onto another plate just to start eating.

They’ve invented a dense bush in a bowl. Loads of fresh parsley, then a big clump of samphire and then underneath are clumped little hard and cold radish slices. Could have done with a dressing, even just olive oil, I mention to the waiter as he politely asks what I thought of it.

What I don’t say is, it could have done with a bit of care in the preparation too. Hey, he’s a professional young guy and is so unphased by this fat fool’s chat he simply replies: thanks for the feedback, it helps us improve things. High five, son.

And now it’s onto confit chicken, chick pea, tomato, chorizo and salsa verde. They’re definitely better at this simple stuff. It’s perfectly pleasant, occasionally tangy and well balanced.

I even salute them for getting twelve quid out of me for a single unspecified-source chicken thigh which has been elevated by

the magic word: confit. Though, I wouldn’t bother confitting it.

I’m pretty sure I could get the same flavour with a thigh from Lidl that has simply been placed on a rack in a long, low oven.

Now, it’s seven of your finest Scottish pounds to finish for a fat wedge of Basque cheesecake with a lush, zingy rhubarb compote on the side.

I don’t know if this is made in here but it’s a wibbly, wobbly wedge of deliciousness.

Weird meal though.

PICTURE: COLIN MEARNS Kelp is a likeable, comfortable place with glass box booths to watch the world swim by