How much would you pay for fish and chips? For me, the cost is time, not money – the trek to the east coast of Scotland where two chippies make food so good it’s life-affirming.

At Tailend and Cromar in St Andrews, juicy haddock is expertly battered and fried to a level I’ve sadly not found elsewhere – an astoundingly light, ultra-crisp coating with frilly, jagged fried edges that audibly shatter into pieces. This work of perfection sits on a bed of not-too-chunky chips that are crispy, fluffy, and creamy enough to convert an avowed skinny-fries-only person like myself.

It’s the standard to which I measure all chippies. Once a local, I now live in Glasgow, sadly a 90-minute journey from chippy heaven. But fortunately, I have been tasked to see if one luxury £21 order of fish and chips is worth the price.

Inspired by our latest review of £18 fish and chips, I could only go to Crabshakk, Glasgow’s trendy seafood restaurant that opened in Finnieston in 2009, back before it became the city’s foodie hub.

The restaurant’s clientele has attracted the likes of David Beckham and Sam Heughan. Although it’s not been shared what the Outlander star ordered, Becks gleefully Instagrammed his way through his meal of scallops “cooked to perfection”, rollmops he said reminded him of his gran, and fish and chips.

Their newest outpost, Crabshakk Botanics, is all sleek and chic industrial modernity with black fixtures, cascading vines, wood-panelled walls and floor-to-ceiling windows, an aesthetic my dining companion dubbed “very New York”. It’s the type of swishy place we’d take friends and family who are visiting town.

As someone without flexible work hours, I like to wonder what other people do for a living when I have the chance to be out in the middle of the day. But it’s not surprising that on a weekday at noon, the other punters at an upscale seafood restaurant are three tables of silver-haired, well-manicured patrons.

Until a father-daughter duo appear, we are the youngest table by some decades – a journalist on a day off in lieu accompanied by a friend starting work later in the day.

The menu is a seafood lovers’ delight. Pick your fish or crustacean – lobster, crab, scallops, langoustine, squid, Abroath smokies – you want it, they’ve got it. There are few non-fish mains, with one meat dish (steak frites) and four vegan-friendly options.

My friend sticks to the complimentary sparkling water, and although I’m off the clock, my plans for the day prevent me from drinking.

I opted for the Spicy Rita (£8), a coral-hued mocktail with citrus, sweetness and savoury notes that reminded me, not unpleasantly, like a tomato. Instead of a salt rim, black Himalayan salt cups one side of the glass, like a sandy bum on the beach.

The service here is polite and efficient. With few diners, two walloping plates of fried seafood and chips arrive quickly. So, my verdict on £21 fish and chips – pretty good, but not worth it. 

Credit where credit is due – they certainly don’t skimp on serving size, for one, and the chips are creamy and delicious. It’s the generously sized fillet of fish (exact variety unspecified) that falls a bit short.

Whilst I wasn’t expecting it to be the best I’ve ever had, the fried coating is thicker, darker and greasier than it ought to be. A skim of TripAdvisor reviews shows I’m not the only one to point this out.

The creamy tartare is a good accompaniment, but notably, it comes without peas, mushy or otherwise – a crime at this price.

Meanwhile, my friend has no regrets ordering the breaded monkfish cheeks that come with skinny fries, salad and their own ketchup (£27), a sauce I found moreish despite being a Heinz devotee.

As a side, we share a vegetarian main, a lovely tomato and watermelon salad (£9) sprinkled with what looks like edible succulent leaves that serve a salty, juicy contrast to the fruit and salsa verde.

The restaurant did not invite me for a review nor were they aware I was doing one. Having paid for the meal, I’m wincing at the price but not terribly put out.

If you really fancy fish and chips, I won’t stop you from ordering one at a fancy restaurant, but I’d wait out the craving until you can get yourself to the East Neuk of Fife in Scotland.