Lil Chippy’s namesake fish-and-chips, with slaw, tartar sauce and ketchup. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

Since I started writing Dine Out Maine, I’ve reviewed three restaurants whose owners all gave the same cagey, one-word answer when I ask about their business’s overarching concept or theme. “Restaurant,” they’ll reply. “The theme of my restaurant is ‘restaurant.’”

Not one of that trio of restaurant-themed restaurants lasted longer than a year. Without a coherent sense of place, space, food and drink, what you’ve got isn’t a restaurant; it’s an improv group. Clarity of purpose matters.

You don’t have to tell that to Lil Chippy’s co-owners Ashley Wolf and Will Durst (both formerly of the acclaimed Hen of the Wood in Waterbury, Vermont). The married duo operate their 32-seat, counter-service fish-and-chip shop with an unambiguous and rather elegant credo: “We’re in Maine, where we’re lucky to have beautiful potatoes and beautiful fish, and we put the two together,” Wolf said.

Beyond the simplicity of the couple’s culinary philosophy, they have plenty of goals for the Washington Avenue shop they opened in the quaint space formerly occupied by Radici. But mostly, Wolf tells me, they want to “highlight our fish and chips, sandwiches and small plates, while keeping this the kind of place people can go to regularly.”

By that, she means both rotating small plates with the seasons and keeping prices affordable — no easy feat on one of the hottest stretches of one of the hottest dining streets in Portland (also still hot, despite recent rumors to the contrary). And somehow, Durst and Wolf seem to be pulling it off.

Lil Chippy’s namesake dish has quite a bit to do with that. Durst’s take on fish-and-chips ($20 or $12 for a kid-sized portion) features 7 ounces of local hake that gets dunked in a frothy batter made with beer (for airiness), vodka (for quick-evaporating crunch bubbles), and a combination of all-purpose flour and cornstarch that gives each fillet a sturdy, yet delicate coating when it is deep-fried.

Things get even better when it comes to dunking. You won’t go wrong sticking to the default condiments: ketchup and homemade tartar sauce tricked out with cornichons, capers and fresh dill. But Lil Chippy also offers five additional sauces ($2 each or $6 for four) worth exploring. Pick the remoulade if you want a sweeter, tomato-accented tartar-esque sauce, or my favorite, the nuoc cham, a tangy condiment whose fish sauce and vinegar both reference and improve upon the malt vinegar you’d find on your table at a British chip shop.

As for those “chips” (what we call “fries”), they’re like nothing you’ve seen. Durst – whose stint as Bistro Leluco’s first chef made locals take notice of his creativity and strong technical skills – employs an unusual tactic to achieve a dark golden hue and ragged texture on his skin-on Green Thumb spuds. Rather than punch, then double- or triple-fry the potatoes, he roasts them first before slicing. According to Wolf, this shortens the first “blanching” fry and results in a french fry that’s less greasy. For me, that’s only part of the appeal. That initial roasting step also causes the skin to pull away a bit from the starchy white flesh of the potato. When fried, the loosened skin crisps on the exterior and interior, creating pockets of salty crunch across each fry. Pure genius.

Lil Chippy’s slaw with Old Bay Seasoning. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

Lil Chippy’s small-plates offerings also give Durst a chance to keep up with the fine-dining techniques he mastered at Hen of the Wood. On the “Snacks” side of the menu, you’ll find a finely composed tuna crudo with cucumbers, lime and umami-rich chili crisp ($18), as well as an herby salad dressed with a tart lemon vinaigrette and topped with pickled shallots. Even Lil Chippy’s coleslaw ($6) hits a fabulous balance between tangy and sweet, crunchy and creamy. It gets a twinkle of extra flavor from a dusting of seafood-shack-appropriate Old Bay seasoning.

This section of the menu does feature one dish that could benefit from a rethink: blistered local shishito peppers ($10). For the dish, inspired by the phenomenal tahini kale Caesar salad at Montreal’s Elena restaurant, these (mostly) mild green peppers get a quick, high-heat sear and are then tossed in pecorino romano, tahini dressing and pan grattato (toasted breadcrumbs). The flavors work well, but adding bread, cheese and a thick dressing causes the peppers to wilt badly. To eat these shishitos, you’ll probably need a fork.

Elsewhere, the kitchen hardly misses a step. That goes double for the sandwiches, which are called “buddies” at Lil Chippy. “Not everyone likes fish, and sandwiches were always something we wanted to do,” Wolf told me. “It’s about making sure we are reaching a variety of palates. People come in for the fish and chips, but they come back for the chicken sandwich.”

That last sentence is sheer understatement. Lil Chippy’s chicken buddy ($16) — a craggy-crusted, deep-fried chicken thigh slathered with charred-onion ranch dressing, house-made Calabrian pepper hot sauce — stacks up against the best chicken sandwiches I’ve eaten. Perhaps it’s the background thrum of capsaicin or the pops of tartness from homemade pickles, but there’s quite a bit going on in every bite, and Durst calibrates every element of this sandwich with precision. I knew I wanted to try one when I spied another diner greedily scarfing down the last bites of his sandwich right after I stepped inside.

The dining room, with comfortable furniture and walls painted “Sea Salt” yellow (an ochre shade of off-white) and “Italian Ice” pink, purrs with a cheery warmth and coziness. Thanks to well-trained front-of-house staff, I also knew precisely what to expect when I walked inside.

“Find a seat wherever you like. The menu is on the table, so when you’re ready to order, just come up to the bar,” an upbeat staffer instructed, using nearly verbatim the language Wolf used when describing how the counter-service model works at Lil Chippy.

“When people walk in the door, we want to say ‘Hi’ and immediately make them feel comfortable and to know what to do. Let us anticipate that for you, so you don’t have to be stressed out trying to figure it out,” she said. “We don’t want you to have a panic attack. You’re here to go out to eat and have a good time!”

That evening, I was also guided not-so-subtly to another terrific sandwich. “Do you like meat?” a staffer inquired as I was dithering. I nodded in the affirmative. “OK, well you have to go for the brisket sandwich.” I did as instructed.

Lil Chippy’s brisket buddy ($18) lives up to the hype. Chalk that up to a six-hour oven braise that renders the beef’s fat cap and transforms the meat into tender, savory shreds. Durst and his team load up a Little Spruce milk bun with a fist-sized portion of the saucy brisket and top it with bright chimichurri and an entire roasted red pepper sourced from South Portland’s Dancing Harvest Farm. According to Durst, the brisket buddy is on the menu sporadically, so be on the lookout.

Lil Chippy’s Mushroom Buddy. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

If it’s not available, I’d like to propose a radical move: Order a vegetarian mushroom buddy ($15). This meatless (and seafood-less) sandwich is no afterthought; it’s a fantastic dish with its own clear identity. Durst tears large oyster mushrooms apart into thin, fan-shaped pieces that he dredges, deep-fries, then layers into a milk bun along with a schmear of miso mayonnaise, a sprinkle of sesame-seed furikake and oodles of fresh cilantro.

Even if you’re cilantro-phobic, I recommend trying this particular buddy as-is. Cilantro’s vivid, citrusy flavor brings the bun’s sweetness to the foreground. That aromatic lightness also counterbalances the crunchy wedges of earthy mushroom. I was taken off-guard by this sandwich, to be honest. So much so, that I switched my beverage — a glass of Field Recordings’ nuanced “Freddo” blend ($15) — for something whose complexity might distract me less.

“Go with seltzer or cider,” the front-of-house staffer behind the bar suggested. “You want something simple. Topo Chico ($4), maybe? No. Too simple. Try the cider we have on tap.” That turned out to be Artifact Cider Project’s “Slow Down” ($8), a single-varietal cider with a linear acidity and murmuring sweetness. Straightforward and to-the-point, this is a beverage that gets out of the way of what you’re eating. And just like Lil Chippy itself, it turns simplicity into an asset.

The dining room at Lil Chippy on Washington Avenue in Portland. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

RATING: ****

WHERE: 52 Washington Ave., Portland, (no phone) lilchippymaine.com

SERVING: noon – 8 p.m. Wednesday to Sunday

PRICE RANGE: Appetizers: $10-$18, Entrees and sandwiches: $15-$23

NOISE LEVEL: Private conference room

VEGETARIAN: Some dishes

RESERVATIONS: No

BAR: Beer and wine only

WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Yes

BOTTOM LINE: Lil Chippy might be 3 months old, but it operates with the confidence of a much older restaurant. Co-owners Ashley Wolf (general manager) and Will Durst (chef) gave themselves a considerable head start with a concise menu featuring first-rate fish-and-chips, a few small-format dishes and a handful of sandwiches. When you visit, you’ll be greeted by friendly, well-trained staff who are ready to guide you when you come up to the bar to place your order. Don’t miss the classic fish-and-chips, prepared here with local hake dunked in a vodka-and-beer batter and plated up with crisp, dark golden skin-on French fries. And don’t ignore the “Buddies” section of the menu, where you’ll find a few of Portland’s best sandwiches, all served on Little Spruce milk bread rolls. In particular, the mushroom buddy is excellent, with its layers of crunchy fried oyster mushroom, miso mayonnaise and a generous portion of cilantro. But perhaps the best dish on the menu is the fiery, beautifully balanced chicken buddy, a crunchy, deep-fried chicken thigh drizzled with charred onion ranch dressing and homemade Calabrian chili hot sauce.

Ratings follow this scale and take into consideration food, atmosphere, service, value and type of restaurant (a casual bistro will be judged as a casual bistro, an expensive upscale restaurant as such):

* Poor
** Fair
*** Good
**** Excellent
***** Extraordinary

The Maine Sunday Telegram visits each restaurant once; if the first meal was unsatisfactory, the reviewer returns for a second. The reviewer makes every attempt to dine anonymously and never accepts free food or drink.

Andrew Ross has written about food and dining in New York and the United Kingdom. He and his work have been featured on Martha Stewart Living Radio and in The New York Times. He is the recipient of eight recent Critic’s Awards from the Maine Press Association.

Contact him at: andrewross.maine@gmail.com
Twitter: @AndrewRossME