Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-4 p.m.; Sat., noon-3 p.m.; Dinner: Mon.-Thu., 4:30-10:30 p.m.; Fri., 5 p.m.-midnight; Sat., 4:30 p.m.-midnight; Sun., 4-10 p.m.

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking permitted in the bar area. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards.

The fruits of summer make it relatively easy to watch one’s diet, but what of the resortlike atmosphere that lends itself to more tippling and nibbling? The answer, of course, is fish and lots of it. So if I feel that the noshing is getting out of hand, or if I’ve indulged in popcorn at a Ritz Theater, I head straight to Philadelphia Fish & Co.

For lo these many years, Kevin Meeker has maintained a pleasant, reasonable fish restaurant, without any fireworks, right at Second and Chestnut. The bar, to the right when you enter, is separated from the dining room by frosted glass panels, but you can eat there, and watch the game if that is your pleasure. The dining room itself has deep red walls, and the banquettes beneath them have mirrors behind them, so, in the French style, the person in the opposite chair can still see what's going on. Or you can sit on one of the kitschy circular Victorian settees in the middle of the room that are topped by large metal sculptures of fish. Or, if it is not too hot, you can sit outside. Wherever you are, be assured of easygoing, friendly service from the black-clad staff, and quiet jazz in the background. Meeker has had his share of revolving-door chefs, and right now Amy Coben mans the stoves. She was originally at Cafette, and before that in San Francisco and Hawaii -- two good places to hone your skills.

We had already half-decided what we were having one recent steamy night, but some of the things that Coben has added to the menu changed our minds. One thing that Fish has always done is print out the daily specials, so there are no mumbled recitations. We spy oysters from Louisiana and British Columbia, and order a daily ceviche, which turns out to be fluke. The fish is marinated in ginger, thai basil, lemon juice and toasted sesame seeds, and served with fried wonton chips. They stick out like plumes from the martini glass that holds the fish, and are very attractive, but cannot save the dish. The lemon juice, more assertive than lime, in the marinade overwhelms all the other flavors, and I would have preferred a little counterpoint in the seasoning. Fluke is a fairly inobtrusive fish that needs those extra spices and it is just this side of turning flabby.

No matter, there is calamari -- dipped in buttermilk and then fried -- that is as light as a breeze and lends itself well to a spicy corn tartar sauce, or ahi with soba noodles and a wasabi aioli. Seared scallops with a watermelon salsa sound exceptionally good, but we'll save that for another day. (I note that chefs are using watermelon like crazy these days; it's light and sweet in a salad with Jersey tomatoes and black pepper -- try that at home.)

Salads are always well-treated here. There's the usual mesclun, with grilled corn and zucchini, or hydroponic butterleaf paired with mango and avocado, or pristine baby spinach leaves, delicately tossed with an orange ginger vinaigrette, enlivened by candied pecans and sprinkles of goat cheese.

For our entrees, with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the accessible, fish-friendly wine list, we have the grilled barbecue shrimp, which are a standard on the menu. It's inspired pairing these with spicy andouille sausage, vinegary collard greens and smoothing it all out with comforting cheddar grits. It's a down-home barbecue, only substituting shrimp for the pig.

One of the daily specials is waluu. I had planned on the one-and-a-half-pound lobster, but was so intrigued by this that I had to try it. I thought I would hate the blueberry sage butter that coated the fish, but the joke was on me. The first bite dissolved on my tongue like a pat of melted butter, not at all sweet, with the dusty edge of sage, and each subsequent bite felt just as decadent. It came decked out with white asparagus, slices of golden fingerling potatoes, figs, and even an orchid, but nothing topped that fish. Later the chef told me that waluu is called "Hawaiian butter fish," and it certainly lives up to its name.

For those poor souls who disdain anything with fins, Fish always has a chicken dish and a rib eye steak on the menu. They will also, like any self-respecting seafood house, do your fish simply grilled or any way you want it, for that matter.

Desserts turn out to be quite passable. A yummy peach cobbler tastes more like a peach bread pudding. Passion fruit cheesecake is unusual in that it comes like an individual cupcake in a pool of chocolate sauce. The passion fruit sours the mix a bit, and keeps it from being too sweet. We enjoy them both, as we have enjoyed the entire meal. There are a number of seafood places in Philly -- Sansom Street Oyster House, Devon, Striped Bass, McCormick & Schmick -- but none have the easy camaraderie that Fish does.