Fish Market

Walking up to Fish Market for the first time, I worried that it wasn't open: a cracked glass door, covered by a thin sheet of plastic inside, spelled closed. My colleague assured me, "It always looks like that," before ducking inside.

The Fish Market is a certified dive. College football flags and ol' glory herself drapes from the ceilings and walls. Phone numbers and drunken scribbles mark up the bathroom walls, with a leaning stack of flip-flops dashed under the sink. The TVs are always on, streaming the game of the moment. But next to bottled beers and plastic cups filled with well drinks, you'll find tables spooning coconut curried chicken over rice and tearing into palm-sized wings, hot, fried and smelling of lemongrass. Oh, and the special of the day? The fish, breaded and fried and served with even more sambal sauce.

It's an open secret that the kitchen doesn't mess around here, as the Chinese and Malaysian dishes gleaned from the owner's mom keep people coming back. As do the thimble-sized shots of free Jameson, which are doled out at the whims of the bartender (which is often).