Ted’s Fish Fry

If you know me, you know I’ve never been one to pass up a good tradition—or anything that comes out of a fryer. Probably two of the reasons why I bought the Texas Inn.

And I’ve always loved a piece of battered cod or haddock, especially when it comes piping hot, golden, flaky, and fried. As a kid, we would get Long John Silver’s as a treat, but they went bankrupt in 1998. (LJS rebounded, but they only have 27 locations in Virginia and only one in Richmond. There are a couple of Captain D’s left, but the food is not good, the staff is generally hostile, and the one on Chamberlayne Avenue has needed major renovations for about 25 years.)

On vacation this week in Saratoga Springs, I found a chain of thriving “fish n chip” shops – Ted’s Fish Fry. Founded in 1949, it’s the kind of place where you can rub elbows with your neighbors, get a good meal, and it won’t break the bank.

First of all, let me tell you what it’s not. It’s not fancy. It’s not your coastal seared Ahi tuna with a lemon wedge, nor is it a Cabo fish taco on a rooftop bar. No, sir. This is salt-of-the-earth, beer-battered, haddock fish fry served up on a paper plate on a red tray with a tiny cup of coleslaw and foot foot-long piece of fried fish perfection on a hot dog roll. Chili sauce or tartar sauce. Pick one. It’s “good, fast, and cheap.”

Just like the big national chains, the local fish fry joints in the Capital Region of Upstate New York are sadly fading away, but not Ted’s Fish Fry. They have 6 locations, and the sign in the doorway proudly proclaims Ted is adding a seventh.

In Upstate—where winters are long and summers are a short reward— the fish fry is more than a meal; it’s a social institution. There’s a rhythm to it. You get in line. You order. “Lunch special with chili sauce.” The young man behind the counter repeats the order to the kitchen staff in shorthand, “SPECIAL. HERE.” In 2 minutes, they walk up with your food. You sit, chat with your table-mates, and then get on with the rest of your day.

In a world spinning fast and filtered, we need places like Ted’s Fish Fry to remind us the best traditions are the ones that feed your belly—and your soul.

What I love most about Ted’s is the simplicity. There’s no animated menu on a giant flatscreen, no complicated kiosk, no influencer campaigns, no QR code on the table. It’s a brick building on the side of the road with a simple sign and no drive-thru. It’s community, grease, and gratitude.