Consider, for a moment, the neighbourhood fish and chipper and the people who make them tick.

Collectively, these hardcore wrappers have enriched a gazillion beach visits; supplied emergency catering to countless family gatherings; plus, injected much good into so many Fridays, simply by listening carefully as they ask pointed questions such as, “battered or crumbed? Fried or grilled?” and, “any sauces or drinks?”

If you’re ordering fish and chips at Fins Bicton – a shiny suburban seafood joint that opened in late October – it’s a certainty that you’ll be asked the above. You will expect this. You will already know your answers. But what may catch you off-guard are all the other possibilities to consider.

Possibilities such as: do I want to take away, or should I just eat here? (The indoor counter running the length of this corner tenancy makes a lovely perch, although the umbrella-shaded parklet deserves consideration, too.)

Or do I want my half-dozen fresh oysters ($20) to have come from Sydney, Tasmania or Albany? (While not shucked to order, they’ve been handled carefully enough to still taste of the sea.) And do I want fat coins of pickled octopus brightened by a luminous sapphire jumble of wakame salad ($16)? (Say yes, say yes.)

These aren’t decisions eaters normally encounter at the fish and chipper. Then again, Fins Bicton is no normal fish and chipper. If you know Fins, you’ll know two things. One: in less than a decade, Fins went from small South Perth fishmonger to go-getting seafood distributor. And two: founders John Cordin and Phil Clark are two of the most excitable hype-men for fish consumption that you’ll ever meet.

For Fins Bicton, they envisaged a seven-day fish shop with benefits: namely, a licensed kitchen where guests could eat Australian and New Zealand seafood either in-store or take-away. To make this happen, the gents recruited partners Grant Jones, Asher Flynn and, crucially, Seth James: a Queensland-born chef whose intricate, precise dishes at Margaret River’s Wills Domain and Frui Momento denoted him as a serious cooking talent.

Relax. There are no tweezers, baby veg or other fine-dining hallmarks here. Instead, what James brings to the party are smart ideas borrowed from the restaurant arena.

But what if you don’t feel like day-tripping to Peru? What if you prefer fish cooked with hot oil rather than citrus? What if you want a straight-up fish and chips experience? They’ve got you. You can tell a lot about a restaurant by its entry-level offerings. Here, it’s honey-coloured plinths of battered Australian hoki ($14) that shatters satisfyingly to reveal its flaky, almost lustrous flesh. Consider the basics nailed.

While snapper and whiting are also available, you can also have any fillet of fish in the cabinet – with the addition of a $12.50 surcharge – cooked as you like. In both thickness and crunch, skin-on chips ($5 or $10) are more akin to fries but still tick the box for tasty ballast. The small serve feels right for two while the bigger portion is designed for groups and families.

And to the other fish and chipper standards. Curls of squid dusted in a pale, snow-like coating equals dainty salt and pepper squid ($14). Filling potato scallops ($7) are five to a serve and feature waxy wedges of ’tater clad in a crisp, blistered battered. Admittedly, seasoning levels can veer towards the heavy – the fried stuff can be especially salty – but let’s face it, fish and chips has never been considered health food.

While there’s plenty of restaurant DNA in the menu and service – venue manager Giada Bousi worked alongside James in Margaret River – don’t come here expecting a restaurant experience. You order at the counter and may find yourself stuck behind first-timers buying dinner for the family, plus guests carry their own drinks to their table.

But consider the above not as an admonishment, but as a heads-up. As recent years have demonstrated, a casual setting no longer means casual cooking, and if dispensing with some bells and whistles translates to lower prices, people are all for it. Fins Bicton mightn’t be WA’s first “gourmet fish and chips” concept, but it feels very “now” and neatly slots into that growing mid-range market that more eaters (and cooks) are looking to.

A confession: in December, I compiled my favourite openings of 2024 but, embarrassingly, left Fins Bicton off the list. (Restaurants that open late in the year, unfortunately, often get overlooked for such round-ups.)

Considering the calibre of food plus the cool drinks package on offer, Fins Bicton should have been on that list. Unusual? Maybe. But like I said earlier, this is no normal fish and chipper.