Summit Township — The best place for fish and chips in the whole state of Michigan is a little shop on a backroad halfway between Pentwater and Ludington. Wedged between houses, plopped in a residential zone, and obviously grandfathered in because it’s been there longer than anyone currently alive on planet earth, Bortell’s Fisheries is one of West Michigan’s best.
Bortell’s Fisheries is a crude concrete building made mostly of cinderblocks. “Hot Fried Fish To Go” is painted above a small doorway. A detailed underwater scene full of fish, logs, and seaweed adorns the rest of the western wall. A sign on the front glass reminds prospective patrons they only accept cash or check.
Inside, there’s only enough room for a handful of hungry customers. No tables or seating, standing-room only. The menu is written on a big board on the back wall. You can take the fish raw to make at home or have the culinary artists at Bortell’s cook it right there. The fryers are bubbling away, a constant crackle beneath a din of voices debating what to order. The workers behind the counter labor in a calm, steady hurry.
There’s a young man and young woman methodically taking orders. An older man wearing a baseball cap mans the fryer. All three have the same ice-blue eyes and friendly disposition. They’re all family.
Bortell’s was founded in 1898 by a German immigrant, Uriah Bortell, and it’s stayed in the family ever since. They caught their fish right across the street on the Big Lake until 1973 when the DNR banned commercial fishing in Lake Michigan. The young man behind the counter told me he’s the sixth generation working here. His sister is next to him, and his dad is on the fryer. Each generation has picked up where the prior one left off.
The walls in Bortell’s are crammed full with old family photographs. Shots of previous generations holding big fish next to the water, old delivery trucks in front of the shop, and grainy photos of boats on the shore at what used to be Bortell’s Landing but what is now known as Summit Park.
Originally, the Bortell family operated their fishing business right across the street down on the shore, but in 1926, the family donated their strip of coveted lakeshore to the people of Summit Township. Today it’s a public park with a baseball field, playground, a sandy shore where people swim all day, and a grassy park up on the hill where you can sit and watch the waves.
That’s what you do when you go to Bortell’s. Order the whitefish dinner basket. Fish, fries, coleslaw. Grab a can of Squirt from the fridge next to the cash register. Walk over to Summit Park, find a picnic table in the shade, and eat. Sit and watch the blue water roll onto the golden shore. The sound of kids on the beach. The wind in the leafy trees above.
If you want to go to Bortell’s—and you most certainly should!—it’s best if you avoid the lunch rush. Noon to 2 p.m. is when they’re swamped. The young sixth generation Bortell man behind the counter confirmed to me that’s the busiest time of the day. If you show up during lunch at the peak of tourist season, it’s going to be about a 30-minute wait.
The story of Bortell’s Fisheries is one of the best kind. Family, legacy, private ownership, and charity. What a generous act to donate their lakefront property to the people of the community. They didn’t have to do it, but they did it anyway.
How many people over the past century have enjoyed that beach because of their selfless donation? How many businesses today can claim sixth-generation inheritors working behind the counter? Not many. That kind of legacy, and buy-in generation after generation, is a rare thing.
Bortell’s Fisheries and Summit Park come in one package. One of the little stories hidden in the cracks. There’s lots of them. Off the freeways and on the backroads, in the little towns that aren’t convenient, at the parks you’ve never heard of, and at the beaches that aren’t on Instagram.
You can’t see these places unless you look. You aren’t going to go there unless you try. That’s what makes them what they are. Drive Up North, go to Bortell’s, take the food across the street, and enjoy one of those incredible places you never even knew existed until a minute ago.
O.W. Root is a writer based in Northern Michigan, with a focus on nature, food, style, and culture. Follow him on X @NecktieSalvage.
