Honest, well-made fish and chips

There are meals that fill your stomach and then there are meals that wrap around you like a nostalgic hug. Fish and chips, that deeply British institution, is one of the latter, provided it’s done well. But in Cyprus, finding a version that manages to balance the grease, crunch and sea air just right is less common than you’d think. That’s what made a recent lunchtime outing with my dad to Lambros Fish & Chips in Dhekelia (also known as Cessac, thanks to its British military base roots) such a joy.

As with many of our culinary escapades, planning was minimal. A vague craving for fish and chips had taken root, but where to go? My dad, ever the last-minute oracle, recalled a seaside spot “up in Dhekelia” that served a decent plate. That was all it took. A clear sky, an appetite and the promise of sea spray led us there.

Finding the place is hardly a challenge. The smell of frying batter and the view of the blue is like a siren call. Parking, surprisingly, was a breeze. From the outside, Lambros looks exactly how you hope a good chippie by the sea should: unpretentious, buzzing with chatter and filled with that gentle hum of content diners tucking into something simple and satisfying. We were lucky to snag one of the few remaining tables.

As we sat down, the waiter barely had to ask if we needed menus. There’s a charming certainty about a place like this. People come here for the fish and chips, they know it, and the staff know it. Still, out of habit (and perhaps a bit of curiosity), I asked to see the menu. It’s not vast, but it doesn’t need to be. There are pork chops, sandwiches and salads – enough to appease a fish-refuser or a chip-averse companion. Of course though, it wouldn’t be a proper chippie if it didn’t also have the classics like steak and kidney pie, scampi, a variety of sausages and sauces and last but not least – love them or loathe them – mushy peas! But let’s be honest, if you’re at Lambros and not ordering fish and chips, you’re missing the point.

Our cod and chips arrived surprisingly quickly, considering how busy it was. Not rushed, just efficient. The kitchen clearly runs a tight ship. My dad’s plate bore a single slab of cod so big it looked like it had swum onto the plate willingly. Mine, curiously, had two smaller fillets. At first, I raised an eyebrow, but a quick glance confirmed my double offering probably outdid his in total mass. Score one for the extra piece.

As tradition dictates, I doused the fish in malt vinegar before the first bite. That familiar crunch, brittle and golden, cracked just right under the fork. Inside, the cod was juicy and flaked with zero resistance. The batter didn’t cling or dominate. It simply framed the fish in a crisp shell. And the chips? Light in colour, meaning the oil hadn’t been hanging around since last weekend. These weren’t fries masquerading as chips. They were proper: a little fluffy inside, with enough crisp to remind you they’d been cooked fresh.

There’s something quietly comforting about a plate of fish and chips done well. It doesn’t need embellishment or a creative twist. When it hits that perfect balance of crisp batter, flaky fish and fresh, golden chips, it speaks for itself. That’s exactly what we found here – simple, satisfying food, prepared with confidence and served just as it should be. Eating with the sea as your backdrop certainly helps. There’s a languid calm that comes from looking out over the water while working your way through a plate like that. My dad paused midway through his meal to soak in the view, and I realised how rare it is to find that combination. A British classic, faithfully recreated, set against a backdrop more often associated with meze and grilled octopus.

Neither of us could muster the space for dessert. In fact, my dad gave up a few mouthfuls before the end, while I powered through like a soldier on a mission. A couple of soft drinks between us, and we were done. Full, satisfied, and perfectly comfortable under the shade of our table.

The bill was €30 flat, €15 each. For two hearty portions and drinks, in a prime seafront location, that’s more than fair. It’s not trying to be boutique or fancy. It doesn’t care about Instagrammable plates or abstract plating. Lambros is all about one thing: serving honest, well-made fish and chips, and serving them well.

Lambros isn’t reinventing the wheel, nor does it need to. It’s simply making sure the wheel keeps turning smoothly, with a little salt, a dash of vinegar and a view that makes you want to linger just a bit longer after your last bite.

Address: Dhekelia Road, Dhekelia (Look for Cessac beach – it’s all the same place)

Cuisine: British Fish & Chips

Telephone: 24 723206

Price: Cod and chips €13
Open: Monday – Saturday 11:30am – 10pm

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