By Alex Reeves – @afreeves23

It’s a Thursday night, sometime back in 2008. My mam is working a late shift and I’m almost giddy with anticipation. It’s already seven o’clock. What’s taking so long? Then the familiar shout, my dad’s voice: “Alex, chippy tea tonight, son, what we having?” Winner, winner, chippy for dinner.

Proper Roast: It wouldn’t be a Sunday without a roast dinner, biblical. Photos courtesy of @afreeves23

In truth, that could have been any night of the week when I was a young nipper. Once every couple of weeks, a saveloy thrown in if my darling mother made it home in time for tea. Honest, homely and iconic. Some of my simplest, fondest foodie recollections of home. Fish and chips is more than just a meal, it’s a ritual, hot, salty and nostalgic in equal measure.

It’s a day trip to Whitby: the arcades, the Dracula tour and a battered sausage for the train home. Sitting in, plates, ramekins, knife and fork, or eating on the go straight from yesterday’s newspaper. It’s nicking out of school for lunch and asking the lady behind the counter for extra scraps with my two-quid cod bites special, or a 99p chip butty splash instead, so I had change for a can of pop.

People, my students very much included, have and will take the proverbial. They put on the dodgy British accent and roll their eyes as I protest that they don’t know what they’re missing. But there’s really nothing like a tray, plate or bun stuffed to the brim with fish and chips. Something so simple does not become this renowned without the minerals to back it up. If rumours are to be believed, it may even be the origin of pescetarianism.

Golden Batter: Union Jacks does the most authentic, UK style fish and chips in Việt Nam.

Like a proper bowl of phở, finding anything remotely authentic when you are far from home shores can be a waste of time. I’ve tried the best-rated Vietnamese restaurants across the UK and paid more than I care to admit for some onions and star anise dropped into a lazy stock. Nothing that gets close to your local broth shop here.

Fish and chips is much the same. Grab is stacked with promises of authentic UK offerings, and a handful of decent eateries in town suggest the same. The intentions are well-meaning and some have made a fair fist of it. If I were distracted, I might be fooled for a moment. But close your eyes, take another bite, and it just doesn’t quite match up to the memories.

Then I heard about Union Jack's. Whispers from down south of actual fish and chips. Fried in beef dripping. No more soggy batter, no sad grey fish and none of the ultimate sin; swapping chips for fries, as though it’s not a big deal. I paid no notice. It was surely just Sài Gòn friends trying to tempt me away from the north. Not worth getting excited about, let alone travelling for. Oh, how wrong I was.

The Wave: The restaurant carries a nautical theme throughout.

Housed in a no frills spot, tucked away in Thảo Điền where most of the city’s expats roam. Typically thin, with high ceilings and plentiful seating. The aesthetic is warm and relaxed, as are the staff. The thematics blend nautical with national. As the name suggests, Union Jack flags adorn the walls alongside masts, helms and maritime murals.

Flags of each nation within the union are displayed, with Scotland, England and Wales represented. In a world where flags increasingly carry more weight than often intended, it matters to say Union Jack's is an inclusive, welcoming environment, and proprietor Matt Ryan has no plans to make you sing God Save the King before you order anytime soon.

His motivation to start such a venture? After almost a decade in Việt Nam chewing it over with an old friend, sadly no longer with us, and that yearning we all share for the foods of our previous lives did the rest. Not groundbreaking, but honest: the British food here, while decent(ish) in places, was ultimately not up to scratch, and he saw an opportunity to fill both a gap in the market and his cravings.

Named in tribute to Matt’s old UK regular, Jack’s Fish and Chips of Bagshot, Union Jack's has grown from a simple chippy to an all-British restaurant. As much as possible is made from scratch rather than pre-ordered, with a mix of local sourcing and imports where needed. During the pandemic years, with Sarson’s out of reach, they even made vinegar in house, ensuring that sharp, malty tang endured when supply chains ran dry.

Succulent Scampi: I came back a second time to get my hands on a portion of this classic.

Boasting the likes of bangers and mash, black pudding, mozzarella and jalapeño poppers, homemade pies and pasties that sell out the day they are baked. The menu is rich with options, sure to satiate even the most famished Anglophile, and I fully indulged it across my two visits. This is simple comfort food, done very well, tested on friends and loyal patrons, pushing it well beyond a gimmick.

Fish is a choice of snapper, sea bass or ling cod, each coated in that crisp, golden batter so often taken for granted. Flaky, firm yet tender flesh hidden beneath a satisfying crunch. Sauces are made in house. Mushy peas that take well to a lashing of vinegar, (thank you, Marco Pierre White). Both classic and fruity curry sauces land properly. If you were blindfolded and transported from the British Isles to Sài Gòn then fed this, I dare say you’d be none the wiser.

My proper ‘chippy chips’ were upgraded, Chinese takeaway style, salt and pepper, for an added feeling of home. While the mini quail Scotch eggs would have been a tad dry for me without the generous helping of garlic mayo, the scampi were nothing short of succulent.

Nostalgia accentuated further when doused in lemon and smothered with tartar sauce. The aforementioned poppers were chunky, bon-bon pockets of meat, cheese and spice, breadcrumbed tightly to hold them together. A hit.

Picnic Memories: Mini quail scotch eggs reminded me of happy times picnicking back home.

Despite attention from home and an industry award naming Union Jack's among the top three overseas ventures globally by a UK national committee, this is more than just a chippy. It’s a homage to British food, a knowing scoff towards the TikTok generation that would file away British food as but a beige meme.

If you’ve never heard of Fergus Henderson and St John’s, fine, but step into a place like this and try telling me British cooking is only a punchline. This is a home away from home for some, and a stereotype crusher for the Anglo-sceptics. Now I just need to convince Matt to pull his finger out and expand up north. Union Jack's Hà Nội, anyone? VNS

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Union Jack’s

Address: 10 Nguyễn Bá Lân, Thảo Điền, Thủ Đức, HCM City

Tel: 0767 286 183

Price: VNĐ 300-500,000 ($11-19) for a main, appetiser and a drink.

Dining companions: Family, friends and larger groups.

Top tip: Bring your appetite, they aren’t shy with the portions!