IT was the day after Storm Arwen had struck, and the cliff-foot car park at Saltburn was scattered with windscreen-smashing pebbles that the sea had flung up, and the doors of the coloured beach huts had been so thoroughly pummelled they looked like an army of malignant drunks had kicked them in.

When we arrived, the tide was safely out, but still towering waves came thundering in, the roaring noise of their crash and suck filling the eardrums as the white mist of their salty spray and spume filled the bay beneath Huntcliff.

It was quite thrilling to walk on the beach, but then came a new addition to the white mist: wet flakes of sleety snow blowing down from Marske, and it quickly became quite chilling.

But the Seaview restaurant was open.

It has been closed since it was granted controversial planning permission in April for a £250,000 extension to the ground floor takeaway counters and the upstairs dining balcony. It was controversial because the extension eats into the congested prom which the long queues often block.

The queues are understandable, because these fish and chips, eaten on a seafront bench, are as fine as any.

However, the tailwind of Arwen meant that the conditions were not conducive for a seafront bench, so we climbed the stairs to the glass-fronted indoors restaurant which has, even with a snow flurry blowing across the bay, a splendid panorama over pier and sea.

The Seaview is far more than just a deep fat fry takeaway. Starters range from mackerel with peanuts, apples and grapefruit for £9 to King Scallops for £13.

This was a Saturday stroll for us – grandma and my son, Theo, accompanied me. Starters seemed extravagant, as did many of the menu’s “main events”: halibut for £29, seatrout for £23, lobster thermidor for £38. They all, though, had inventive accompaniments – the vegetarian option, wild mushroom pithivier with sauteed spinach and watercress sauce (£16).

Being cheap daytrippers, we went for the deep fat fry “seaside staples” – as did nearly all of our fellow diners. Grandma had a small fish and chips (£9.95) while Theo had the regular (£13.95) although he was tempted by the thought of the large (£16.50). In comparison, regular fish and chips from the takeaway downstairs is £7.50.

But these fish and chips are very good: bright white fish with clean crispy batter, and chip shop chips. They came with a pot of nice, creamy, homemade tartar sauce.

Grandma augmented hers with some sturdy mushy peas and Theo had a boat of curry sauce (£1.80 each). Theo likes to douse his fish in curry sauce, which I think is unforgiveable – the sauce should be saved to enliven the chips when your fish is finished.

Both diners thought their portions were the ideal size – grandma, who often peels off much of her batter, ate all of her small portion and Theo was full with his regular. A big man on the turquoise blue bench by the window forced his way through the large, but it seemed an effort.

I chose Whitby scampi (£13.95), which was excellent. The little pouches were crispy on the outside, and moist, hot and tasty on the inside. There was plenty of them, plus a bowl of tartar sauce, another of proper peas, plus a salad. It was a very enjoyable alternative to fish and chips, and I had enough chips left over to try the light brown curry sauce – with hints of sweetness and heat, it enlivened the chips nicely but would have killed the fish.

We asked for the dessert menu, and nearly choked: four options – Baked Alaska to Tart Tatin – each for £9. In most of the restaurants we review here, £6.50 is an expensive dessert, so these were exorbitant.

In the interests of research, and following the waitress’ advice, Theo and I opted to share a brioche butter pudding and leave grandma drinking in the view.

The pudding came in the black iron dish that a sizzling curry is often served in. A large curry. Very large.

It consisted of 10 circular slices of brioche – practically a loaf – which were interleaved with chunks of poached pear swimming in a lake of salted caramel custard with light nuts sprinkled across it. Plus there was a jug of hazelnut anglaise, another kind of custard.

It was lovely. The heaviness of the bread saturated with caramel custard was lightened by the juicy fruitiness of the pear.

But it was gargantuan. Theo and I managed four slices each and grandma sunk the other two. None of us wanted any more, and the big man on the turquoise blue bench in the window admitted defeat with about four slices remaining.

And the jug of hazelnut anglaise was completely unnecessary. You didn’t another flavour, or any more liquid, in there.

While £9 a dessert is exorbitant, £3 per person is a completely different kettle of fish.

So we had dined well in the warm while watching, from behind the protective glass, the last blowings of Arwen. By the time we’d finished, the snow had been replaced by a blue sky with a vibrant splash of rainbow at the end of the pier as the next storm approached.

Seaview Restaurant

Lower Promenade,

Saltburn-by-the-Sea

TS12 1HQ

Website: theseaviewrestaurant.co.uk

Phone: 01287-236015

Food quality: 8

View: 10

Service: 7

Value for money: 8

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