Go Fish Galvez

Okay, okay, it wasn’t that bad.

In fact, one of the dishes we ordered, the Shrimp Scampi, was actually quite good—eight, count ‘em, eight! Jumbo Gulf shrimp sautéed in olive oil, white wine, shallots, garlic, and fresh herbs, served atop angel hair pasta in a creamy, garlic butter sauce and topped with parmesan cheese. What’s not to like?

Except for the fact that …

• we were first seated at a table by a window with a nice view of the harbor, only to find the blinds drawn against a glaring setting sun,
• in the stiflingly hot, extremely loud (thanks to several large, probably inebriated groups) Elissa Room (named for Galveston’s tall sailing ship moored at the dock just outside),
• and then, at our request, reseated, this time at a table near the bustling kitchen and ever-popular restrooms, and still too near one especially loud-mouthed party of happy women, unhappily situated at the convergence of the Elissa Room’s threshold and our new table,
• after which we were served an appetizer of Shrimp Kisses, an alleged “Galveston’s favorite!” (or so screamed the FW menu) and a dish seemingly similar in ingredients and preparation to our beloved Willie G’s Shrimp Cabo (how many ways can you say NOT?), shrimp that were, in fact, desperately overfried (is that a word?) to a dark-brown crispness that would have made Old Sparky envious, and this evaluation, mind you, coming from a Southern girl who, right up until the moment that Shrimp-Kissed plate hit the table, could not have even conceived such an alien notion as overfried,
• and finally we were served a dish, make that two, of definitely not-fresh, though perhaps fresh-frozen (not the same!), fillets of grouper, that sweet bottom fish we had been hunting in earnest for days, but which, to add insult to injury, was deep—not pan—fried, in a heavy batter more suited to a big old juicy batch of Southern fried chicken (we should have ordered that!) than a delicate white fish. Oh, well.

So, except for all that, it was a splendid dining experience (insert your own sarcasm here). Give it five stars (ahem). Or not.

In all fairness, though, any disappointment in the meal was mostly our own fault. Examining the menus of all the big and small restaurants in town and finding grouper on only one—and that etched in permanent ink—should have been a gigantic red flag. Clearly, if it doesn’t show up on most or all of the Galveston menus, then either (a) it’s not the season for grouper or (b) those puppies just don’t like the Galveston waters much and fan their fins another way. In either case, probably best to order something else.

Okay, so Fisherman’s Wharf really isn’t that bad (don’t fuhgeddaboudit) and shouldn’t be judged on its grouper alone, which it did at least offer on the menu. And speaking of the grouper, it really wasn’t bad either, just not the fresh-from-the-water offering we had been told it would be. FW also has a superb location, right there on the old Galveston waterfront, with lots of great atmosphere, if you sit in the right places. Even from our bustling-kitchen/popular-restroom table, we had a first-row view of the magnificent tall ship Elissa. Lovely! And although no one was seated in the outdoor dining area when we were there, it looked to be a great spot in which to enjoy a repast on a less blustery, slightly warmer evening.

So I promise to give FW another try sometime, although I won’t be ordering the grouper or “Galveston’s favorite!” Shrimp Kisses, and I’ll be sure to sit outside where there’s a nice Gulf breeze and no cackling, drunken women (unless, of course, I’m one of them).

And should I decide I’m in the mood for a really tasty Shrimp Kiss, well, then, I’ll get up, pay my tab, and walk around the corner to a nice table at Willie G’s, where I’ll place an order for their delicious Shrimp Cabo. Cheers!