A Sunny Friday, A Seafood Feast, and Twenty‑Odd Misfits Let Loose at the New Sydney Fish Markets
Sydney turned on one of those perfect, smugly beautiful Fridays — blue skies, a teasing breeze off Blackwattle Bay, and just enough sunshine to justify knocking off early for “cultural reasons.” What better excuse for the Larrikins and partners to descend on the brand‑new Sydney Fish Market for a long lunch at the Pyrmont Boatshed.
A crew of 20‑odd hashers and accomplices rolled in: Bren Gun, Glitterroo, Nympho, Celestrial, He’ll Do, Short Sheeter, 4×2, No Knickers, Chimney, Laundromat, Ace, 9W, Mother, Venerable, Platapussy, Frankly Fiona, Afterbirth, Mrs Afterbirth, IXL, Bristle, Pretzel (who wandered in fashionably late), and me, Fetchit.
The Venue: Shiny, Flash, and Not Without Its Quirks
The new Sydney Fish Market is a bit of a show‑off — all glass, timber, curves, and architectural swagger. It’s bigger, cleaner, and far more photogenic than the old one, with sweeping waterfront decks and enough seafood displays to make Poseidon blush.
But it’s not without its “character‑building” features:
- The good:
- Stunning harbour views that make even a schooner look classy
- A huge, airy layout that actually smells like the ocean, not a trawler’s laundry
- Sustainable design, solar panels, and clever ventilation
- A proper sense of occasion — you feel like you’re somewhere special
- The not‑so‑good:
- Prices that suggest the fish have been individually massaged
- A layout that requires a minor expedition to find the loos
- Crowds thick enough to lose a hasher in (which is exactly what happened to Pretzel)
- A few teething issues — queues, confusion, and the odd “we don’t do that anymore”
But once the Larrikins settled into Boatshed Pyrmont, nearly all was forgiven. The staff were patient, too patient for some waving arms to attract attention, the drinks cold, and the seafood… well, let’s just say no prawn died in vain.
The Feast
Platters of oysters, prawns, calamari, fish, and enough chips to sink a dinghy rolled out. The bevies flowed — beers, wines, bubbles, and whatever it was that Glitterroo kept ordering that looked suspiciously like a holiday in a glass.
Mother held court.
Laundromat tried to explain something technical no one asked about.
No Knickers lived up to the name in spirit if not in practice.
4×2 measured the table for reasons unknown.
Afterbirth and Mrs Afterbirth tag‑teamed the banter.
Bren Gun and Ace debated something loudly and incorrectly.
And Pretzel arrived halfway through, claiming he’d been “exploring the market” — which we all know is code for “got lost again.”
The Thanks
A huge Larrikin shout‑out to:
- GM Frankly Fiona – for steering the ship with grace and only mild exasperation
- Venerable – for logistics, diplomacy, and keeping the rabble pointed in the right direction
- Platapussy – for wrangling bookings, menus, and the delicate art of herding misfits
Without their efforts, we’d probably still be wandering around the fish market wondering which level we were meant to be on.
The Verdict
A cracking afternoon.
A pearler of a venue.
A feast worthy of the Larrikin name.
And a reminder that few things in life beat seafood, sunshine, and a table full of mates who’ve been causing trouble together for decades.
Here’s to the next one — and may the Fish Market loos become easier to find by then.
