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When a chill wind blows into Buenos Aires from the Patagonian south, I find myself missing fish and chips, the greasy Saturday night fix of my British childhood. That’s when I’m especially grateful for this sweet little canteen in Palermo Viejo, where the cod-like abadejo (pollack) comes in a crispy batter and where chips are chips (thick, misshapen and squishy) rather than French fries.

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Chipper

When a chill wind blows into Buenos Aires from the Patagonian south, I find myself missing fish and chips, the greasy Saturday night fix of my British childhood. That’s when I’m especially grateful for this sweet little canteen in Palermo Viejo, where the cod-like abadejo (pollack) comes in a crispy batter and where chips are chips (thick, misshapen and squishy) rather than French fries.