The Fishery

Down on Cass Street, far from the tourist traps and chain seafood joints, The Fishery stands as a temple to the Pacific’s bounty. This isn’t some white-tablecloth, over-wrought affair; it’s a midcentury warehouse with character—brick bones, honest lines, and the faint aroma of brine and citrus. You walk in and you feel it: not just another restaurant, but a living market, a place where fishermen meet chefs and both take pride in what they've hauled from the sea. Here, dinner is serious business. Macadamia nut-crusted halibut arrives crisp and golden at the edges, its flesh nearly translucent with freshness. Rockfish is served whole—head on, tail curling slightly—a reminder that this fish was swimming in local waters not long ago. The sashimi? Clean, cold slices so pure you taste the ocean more than the soy or wasabi. And that chowder: rich enough to make New Englanders blush with envy. But this place isn’t just about food—it’s about community. Families linger over calamari and cocktails on the patio, dogs napping underfoot, babies babbling at tables warmed by sunset and propane heaters. The service is attentive but unpretentious; staff know their fish like old friends and are happy to guide you through what’s best tonight. There are quirks: blankets for chilly nights sometimes come with a bit too much “ocean air,” and when busy, they might forget your lemon wedge or bread until after you’ve finished your meal. But these rough edges are part of its charm—proof that The Fishery is alive, imperfect, and utterly authentic. For locals and pilgrims alike, it’s a reminder that great seafood belongs to those who respect it—and know where to find it.