GiGi head chef Luis Melendez prefers Guinness-battered monkfish over the traditional cod, and so do we. His signature take on the limey favorite comes with three sauces (traditional cocktail, sherry vinegar and a delicious scallion aioli), and the dense, firm texture of the Yuca fries leaves a sweet aftertaste.

The Grill's beer batter is heavy but not greasy, enhancing the hearty cod filets without overwhelming them. The chips are fresh-cut, then fried to a crispy-soft consistency and tossed with a liberal amount of salt. A nice touch: The spicy tartar sauce is kicked up with scallions and capers.

Manager Matthew Ehrmann says many a Brit has told him that the Pub's fish and chips is the most authentic version they've eaten this side of the great blue pond. The cod is cut thick as a fist, then fried to a light golden brown. Although the spuds are pre-frozen, the lemon dill tartar sauce brings it all together.

Here in the hills, the fries are hand-cut, "never frozen," and the fish (cod or scrod) isfreshly caught and elbow-dipped in a beer batter made from a secret recipe. Don't ask them to spill the beans, 'cause they ain't tellin'.

Although mushy peas are a common complement to fish and chips in the United Kingdom, the combo is rarely found Stateside. The Bards' oily taters leave something to be desired, but their side of peas make the fish, which is deep-fried in a flavorful, almost buttery batter, all the better.