You’re walking down the boardwalk in Steveston Village, Richmond, and the smell hits you before you even see the masts. It’s that sharp, vinegary, salty aroma of frying batter. People are hovering. They're leaning over wooden railings with grease-spotted newspaper cones, dodging seagulls that are frankly a bit too bold. This isn't just a meal. It's The Boat Fish and Chips, or more accurately, Pajo’s and its rivals perched right on the water.
Steveston is a weird, beautiful mix of a working fishing port and a tourist magnet. It’s where Once Upon a Time was filmed, but it’s also where real boats bring in real haul.
Honestly, eating fish and chips on a floating wharf feels different. Is it the salt air? Maybe. Or maybe it’s the fact that the floor literally wobbles when a big wave hits. If you've never been, you might think it's just a gimmick. It isn't.
What People Get Wrong About Steveston Fish and Chips
Most tourists just follow the loudest sign. They see "Pajo’s" and they line up for forty minutes because that’s what the internet told them to do. Pajo's started in 1985 on a single stand, and yeah, they basically invented the "floating chippy" vibe here. But if you think they’re the only game in town, you’re missing out on the nuance of the local rivalry.
Dave’s Fish & Chips is just up the street. It isn't on a boat, but locals will fight you—literally—over who has the better batter. Dave’s is thick, bready, and classic. Pajo’s? Theirs is thin. Like, surprisingly thin. It’s a tempura-style light crunch that lets the fish actually breathe. If you want to feel like you’ve eaten a brick (in a good way), you go to Dave's. If you want to actually walk back to your car without a nap, you stay on the boat.
Then there's the fish choice.
People see "Cod" and they click buy. Stop doing that. In the Pacific Northwest, specifically in BC, the hierarchy is real.
- Pacific Cod: The standard. Flaky, mild, cheap.
- Haddock: A bit firmer, a bit more "fishy" flavor.
- Halibut: The king. It's expensive. Like, "I should have checked my bank balance" expensive. But the texture is meaty, almost like a steak.
- Salmon: A controversial choice for frying, but since you're in a salmon port, it's the freshest you'll get.
The Logistics of Eating on a Floating Dock
It’s tiny. Let's be real about the space. When you’re at The Boat Fish and Chips (Pajo’s at the Wharf), you are sharing a bench with a stranger’s toddler and probably a very hopeful Golden Retriever.
The wharf is located at the corner of Bayview Street and Third Avenue. You walk down the ramp—watch your step because it gets slippery—and you order at the window. There’s no "inside." You’re outside. If it rains, you’re getting damp. But that’s the West Coast experience, right?
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One thing most people miss: the bottomless chips. Pajo’s used to be famous for this. You’d finish your fries and go back for more. They still keep the portions massive, but the "bottomless" era has shifted a bit with rising food costs. You still get a mountain of fries, though. They’re hand-cut, skin-on, and usually a bit soft. If you’re a "crispy McDonald’s fry" person, you might be disappointed. These are British-style chips. They're meant to soak up the malt vinegar until they’re basically a salt-delivery vehicle.
Why the Water Matters
Freshness isn't just a buzzword here. You can literally see the fishing fleet from your seat. Steveston is home to Canada's largest commercial fishing fleet. When you’re eating halibut, there’s a decent chance that fish was swimming a few miles away not too long ago.
There's a specific smell to the wharf. It’s diesel, sea salt, and old wood. To some, it’s "fishy." To locals, it’s the smell of the economy. Eating on the boat connects you to that history. You aren't in a sterile mall food court. You’re in a place that has been canning salmon since the 1800s. The Gulf of Georgia Cannery is a stone's throw away; it’s a National Historic Site now, but the ghosts of the industry are everywhere.
Comparing the Main Players
If you’re doing a "Fish and Chips Crawl," which I highly recommend if your gallbladder can handle it, you need to know the players.
- Pajo’s (The Original Wharf): Lightest batter. Best views. Most crowded.
- Dave’s: Best for a sit-down, "diner" feel. Their tartar sauce is legendary.
- Steveston Built: A newer entry. More modern. Good if you want a craft beer with your fish.
- Blue Canoe: This is where you go if you want a "real" restaurant experience with a glass of wine, but you’ll pay a premium for the white tablecloths.
The "Boat" experience is specifically Pajo’s. It’s the one everyone puts on Instagram. But honestly? The best move is to grab your order to-go and walk down to Garry Point Park.
The Seagull Problem (A Warning)
I am not joking. The seagulls in Steveston have evolved. They are tactical. They work in teams. If you leave your tray unattended for three seconds to grab a napkin, your halibut is gone.
I once saw a gull take a piece of cod right out of a guy's hand while it was halfway to his mouth. Eat with a lid. Or eat under the umbrellas. Do not feed them. It only makes them stronger.
Is it actually the "best" in the world?
"Best" is a trap.
If you go to London or Scotland, you’ll find thicker, crunchier beer batters. If you go to the East Coast, the clams and haddock are the stars. Steveston’s The Boat Fish and Chips is about the Pacific. It’s about the specific sweetness of BC Halibut. It’s about the fact that you’re eating it in a village that feels stuck in 1950.
Is it the best? It’s the most authentic to this place.
A Note on Sustainability
BC has some of the strictest fishing regulations in the world. When you eat here, you’re usually supporting sustainable harvests. The Ocean Wise symbol is everywhere. It matters because the Fraser River—which empties right here—is a sensitive ecosystem. Buying from the wharf supports the families who actually live on these boats.
How to Do It Like a Local
Don't go at 1:00 PM on a Saturday in July. You will wait an hour. You will be grumpy. The sun will burn your neck.
Go on a Tuesday at 3:30 PM. Or go in October when the mist is rolling off the water and the crowds have vanished. There is something deeply "Pacific Northwest" about eating hot, greasy fish in the cold wind.
- Order the Halibut. Yes, it's $5-$10 more. Just do it.
- Ask for extra lemon. They usually only give you one wedge. You need three.
- Malt vinegar is mandatory. Don't use ketchup. It's a crime here.
- Walk the Dyke. After you eat, walk the trail toward Garry Point. It helps the digestion and the views of Vancouver Island across the strait are killer.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
If you're planning a trip to Steveston to hit The Boat Fish and Chips, here is your tactical plan:
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- Check the Tide: If the tide is low, the wharf sits much lower and the "boat" feel is more pronounced. It’s also when the smell of the mudflats is strongest (which some love and some hate).
- Park Far Away: Parking in the main Steveston lot is a nightmare. Park five blocks north in the residential area and walk in. You’ll save twenty minutes of circling.
- Bring Wet Wipes: This is a finger-food operation. The tartar sauce packets are messy, and the salt/grease combo on your hands will haunt you all day if you don't wash up.
- Visit the Fish Sales Float: Before or after you eat, walk down to the public sales float. This is where fishermen sell directly from their decks. You can buy spot prawns (in season), sea urchin, or whole salmon to take home. It puts your meal into perspective.
- Skip the Soda: Get a ginger beer or a local lemonade. The sugar helps cut through the heavy frying.
The boat fish and chips experience isn't about fine dining. It’s about grease, salt, and the Pacific Ocean. It’s messy, it’s crowded, and it’s one of the few things in Greater Vancouver that hasn't been polished into a corporate version of itself. Go there. Get the halibut. Guard your fries from the birds.