This Low Key Restaurant In Michigan Serves The Best Perch In The Country
I have a theory that the air inside Scotty Simpson’s is actually 40% atomized lard and 60% pure, unadulterated Detroit soul. Walking in feels like stumbling into a grainy 1950s film reel where the color hasn’t quite faded yet; the fluorescent lights hum a low, steady “B-flat” that matches the rhythmic hiss of the deep fryer.
There’s no curated “retro” vibe here, just decades-old counters and a soundtrack of local gossip and the sharp clack of heavy plates landing on Formica.
Michigan seafood lovers can experience the ultimate throwback dining adventure by visiting these legendary, time-tested fish fries hidden in the heart of the city.
Honestly, if you’re looking for a garnish or a sprig of parsley, you’re in the wrong zip code. This is blue-collar perfection where the grease is clean, the batter is a family secret, and the bill actually makes sense. Grab a stool, douse everything in tartar sauce, and listen to the city breathe.
Crisp Lake Perch, The Headliner
The Crisp Lake Perch arrives audibly crisp, coated in a thin batter that shatters under your teeth rather than clinging to the fish like a heavy blanket. Inside, the flesh is pearly and sweet, never greasy, never steamed, just perfectly timed in the fryer.
A quick squeeze of lemon brightens the entire plate, and the homemade tartar sauce brings a gentle tang that supports the fish without drowning it out.
Scotty Simpson’s has guarded this specific frying technique with quiet consistency for over seventy years. Because the oil is kept meticulously clean and batches move so quickly, the flavor remains remarkably light.
If you are someone who lives for the crunch, try asking for the smaller pieces; the increased surface-area-to-meat ratio guarantees a more intense “snap” in every bite.
You’ll feel the entire room collectively nod when a fresh plate lands. Conversations often pause for those crucial first bites, then resume with a satisfied, weather-report calm. It is simple, exact, and exactly what you came for.
Fish And Chips, The Benchmark Plate
Start with the standard to understand the place. Fish arrives first, fries tucked alongside, slaw balancing the heat with chill. The batter is whisper thin, so you actually taste fish, not crust.
There is history in the rhythm here, a Detroit Friday ritual that predates most modern food fuss. The servers keep it moving, cash ready at the counter, orders landing in around ten minutes when the fryers roar. It is a time capsule that still cooks to order.
For your visit, let the fries rest a minute so steam escapes and edges stay crisp. Dip sparingly, listen for that crunch, and notice how quiet you become.
Tartar Sauce, Quiet Superstar
In a world of bottled, shelf-stable condiments, the tartar sauce here is a quiet superstar. There is a perceptible hush of dill and finely chopped pickle that lifts the sauce without shouting for attention.
It manages to be creamy yet light, spreading smoothly over the hot perch before stepping back into a supporting role so the seafood can keep center stage.
Old-school establishments like this almost always make their condiments in-house, and that tradition is alive and well at Scotty Simpson’s. The staff will proudly confirm it is their own recipe, seasoned specifically to complement their delicate batter.
Because the sauce is so well-balanced, you’ll find you don’t need to use much to get the full effect.
I recommend dabbing just the corner of each fillet rather than scooping; this keeps your bites clean and prevents the edges of the batter from getting soggy. It is a masterclass in how a condiment should behave.
Coleslaw And The Green Debate
The slaw shows up pale green, finely chopped, and colder than the room by a mile. Some days it leans sweet, others tilted savory, and opinions divide accordingly. Its crunch counters fry heat, whether you love it or lobby for tweaks.
Longtime Detroit spots refine recipes gradually, not trend by trend. Reviews mention swings, which can happen with small batch prep and produce. Texture stays consistent, likely thanks to a tight chop and quick chill.
Order it to calibrate your plate. A forkful between bites resets your palate so the fish keeps popping. If slaw is not your thing, swap attention to the lemon and keep cruising.
Onion Rings With A Tinny Crunch
When you take your first bite of the onion rings, you’ll notice a tiny, musical “bell” of a crunch followed by the sweet, softened slip of the onion.
The coating is thin, much like the fish, which means you get less grease and more snap. They tend to land on the table so hot they’ll fog up your glasses for a second if you lean in too close.
These rings have earned decades of loyal fans and are frequently mentioned in the same breath as the perch and shrimp. The kitchen treats them with the same respect as the seafood, using clean oil and made-to-order timing to prevent the crumb from darkening or turning bready.
If you are a texture seeker, look for the smaller rings in the basket; they seem to hold their structural integrity the best. While they are great for sharing, make sure you keep a few for yourself to dip into that house tartar sauce, which is a surprisingly perfect pairing.
Frog Legs, Classic Throwback
If you want to dive deeper into the Midwest fish house tradition, the frog legs are a classic throwback that you rarely see done this well anymore. There is a subtle, springy bite to the meat that sits somewhere between the tenderness of a chicken wing and the delicacy of a whitefish.
The fry batter stays restrained here as well, allowing a faint, natural sweetness to come through.
Frog legs were once a staple of the region’s culinary identity, and Scotty Simpson’s keeps that flame flickering for a new generation. This menu item appears in customer memories spanning over half a century, acting as a marker of the restaurant’s incredible continuity.
It fits the room’s time-capsule appeal perfectly. You’ll want to order these when the kitchen is in a steady groove so they come out piping and crisp. Eat them fast while the exterior is still “singing”, it’s a small culinary detour that tells a much larger story about Detroit’s dining history.
Shrimp Done Simply Right
These shrimp snap cleanly, no mush, no heavy bread jacket to fight through. The batter’s light touch leaves room for brine and sweetness. A quick dip in tartar adds tang, while a lemon wedge pushes brightness over the top.
Plenty of reviews single them out alongside the fish, which says a lot in a fish-and-chips temple. Speed helps here, with orders landing in roughly ten minutes when the line is flowing. The oil remains clean, which keeps flavors clear.
Ask for a half order if you plan to sample widely. Pace yourself between bites and fries to preserve texture. It is an easy win for mixed tables.
Clam Chowder, January Comfort
Steam curls off the cup like a small radiator, exactly what Detroit winter wants. The chowder is creamy without sludge, with soft potatoes and mild clams. Salt stays measured so you can finish the cup without thirst.
One visiting review called out how hot it arrives in late January. That temperature control signals intention, not accident. It might not be the most complex bowl in the country, but it fits the room perfectly.
Pair it before a perch plate when the wind cuts on Fenkell. Sip slowly, then chase with fries for a texture switch. Warm hands, clear head, ready for the crunch course.
Cash Only, Plan Ahead
Here is the most practical tip: bring cash. The register does not take cards, and you do not want your order stalled by an ATM detour. Prices are friendly, so a couple of twenties usually covers two hefty plates.
The policy fits the place, a steady rhythm that has worked since mid century. Service stays fast, partly because payments move quickly. You will notice regulars arriving with exact bills folded in a pocket.
For timing, aim Tuesdays through Fridays at lunch or early dinner. Saturdays open later, and Mondays and Sundays are closed. Walk in prepared and the rest is easy.
Timing The Fryers
The acoustics of the dining room will actually tell you the best time to order. When you hear the hiss of the fryers rising and the rhythmic clinking of plates in sequence, you’ve hit the sweet spot.
That is when the oil is turning over perfectly and the fish is flying from the basket to the plate with no delay. Texture always peaks during this high-flow period.
Decades of operation have trained the kitchen team to pace their orders with military precision. That ten-minute turnaround time is a point of pride here, and you can really taste the difference in a crust that finishes crisp rather than sitting under a heat lamp and turning soft.
My advice is to stand back for a second, read the rhythm of the counter, and then step in. Whether you go for the small pieces for the edges or the standard cuts for the flake, make sure you eat immediately. In this building, heat is the final, most important ingredient.