I would guess if you asked a lot of Brits where they had their most cherished meals, a good portion of them would involve being ‘on a marina in Spain somewhere’. We love it. Course we do.
The thing is, we’re not used to it. Long, lazy meals, lapping water, kids playing on the beach might be commonplace over lunch on the continent. But we’re the nation that thinks that the (abomination) ‘meal deal’ is a sufficient 1pm lunch.
And it’s a shame because the je ne sais quoi of cooking outside, especially on the coast, is something that no chef, no matter how talented, or any amount of Heston-esque skills can replicate. Vibe is misused, but the smell of a smoking grill outdoors, sun-kissed faces, and the proximity to the sea from whence your dinner came, is the vibe, and indeed the entire USP of Riley’s Fish Shack.
But is it just a case that the setting’s unbeatable and the food is secondary? Is the romantic vision just too damn powerful?
Well, I’m very late to the party here, but over the last ten years, it’s very hard to argue that this isn’t one of the best restaurants in a 100-mile radius.
A couple of increasingly rusty shipping containers welded together on King Eddie’s Bay with some deck chairs outside set the scene. It’s so bloody imperfectly rustic and of its place, I don’t know how other restaurateurs haven’t been falling over themselves to replicate a setup like this.
I covered Riley’s when it was a slightly smaller operation on the Quayside of all places. It was great then, and amazingly, it manages to be 10x better here.
It was a bit scrappier then, more aligned with its street food origins. Looking at some of the dishes, you can see how they’ve just lost their ragged edges a little bit over time. But take away the immaculate setting, and the cooking stands on its own. You’re getting deliberate and accurate restraint, with absolutely no gimmicks.
My advice for those who haven’t been — apart from just getting yourself a booking before the colder months take hold — is to go for something simply grilled. Chalkboard menus carry 16–20 dishes. In case it wasn’t clear, everything has some sort of fruit of the sea in it, yes even the corn, and even a gazpacho.
In a decade, I’ve not had a single failure of a dish here. Standouts: the soufflé has enough brown crab to make it interesting, and a bisque so deep, it rivals that of any restaurant I’ve eaten in. More of the brick-red sauce would have been good.
Always get something with the caper-spiked salad, it’s sour and acidic and will cut through any buttery fish. The version with potatoes, aioli and flatbreads is the one you want (check it doesn’t come with your dish anyway).
A bang-bang monkfish kebab comes with aloo tikki, tamarind, and a nice kick. It can stand up to the spice, and this monkfish — plentiful, in huge tender meaty nuggets — is cooked more deftly than anything I’ve had out of a Michelin kitchen. I know a lot of people can’t quite get on board with the £30 main course. I wanted to order two.
The immutable mackerel wrap has been synonymous with Riley’s since the street food cart days, and remains a pretty perfect dish. Its fennel / lime salad cuts through the charred fatty fish just so. A huge flipper-sized slab of salted hake comes charred and juicy, slathered in butter and lemon. There are specials of (small) whole turbot, ‘simply grilled’. It needs nothing more.
How many times have I bemoaned style over substance restaurants in the last ten years? Here, there is no pandering to trends, or to making dishes for social media. For that confidence alone, Riley’s is a bit of me.
Decent wines for £30–50 a pop but I think the plastic glasses suck all of the occasion from them. Instead, local beers come from Flash House, including an oyster stout, of course.
If I had to search for gripes, some of the tableware — those tiny plastic glasses, paper trays — don’t befit the price point. It doesn’t really, if anything, it plays even harder into ‘we are absolutely not about over engineering these plates’. And obviously breakages on the beach etc. are not good, but trying to delicately pick the meat off plaice bones with a clumsy wooden fork… is not the one.
It’s hard not to like. I guess if you order carelessly, the bill can quickly rack up. Stick to main grilled seafood dishes. Some might not like the seating – stool or deck chair. It gets very busy during any glimmer of sunshine, so be sure to book. If you plan for a day and then the weather isn’t great, it’s not ideal, but this is England. Some of the bread is a bit pallid. I couldn’t just say it’s perfect, could I?
Those are difficult criticisms to level. When other restaurants complain of rising prices etc. outwardly, Riley’s continues to sell out. They don’t really do any huge marketing, least not ‘influencers’. Prices have gone up, for sure, but you can eat very well for £30 all in here, easily.
For me, a sunny day on the coast with a cold pint and the smell of some seafood over coals grilling feet away is a restaurant experience that is out of the bounds of what 99% of other restaurants can offer. That allure is worth every penny.
Riley’s Fish Shack started as a street food cart and though the food has moved on since then, it’s not wholly different. It was fantastic then. It is even better now. This isn’t a restaurant that trades on the view. Tynemouth’s coast, glorious as it is, doesn’t outshine the kitchen. The food was always stellar. The two work in harmony, making an unforgettable restaurant experience.
You don’t need the Basque Country. Everything you need is right here on King Eddie’s Bay.
Location: King Edward’s Bay, Tynemouth, NE30 4BY
Opening: Mon 9:30–17:30, Tue 9:30–17:30, Wed–Sat 9:30–22:00, Sun 9:30–17:30
Contact: rileysfishshack.com
Cost: Dishes £12–60+
