I can’t explain it, but just over a decade ago I had fish and chips from a tiny shop in a little town in Scotland. A village really, all that was there was a few shops and houses and a 600 year old stone bridge.
Anyway, they put the fish and the chips in a bag, doused it with malt vinegar, and shook it up. I don’t know what kind of alchemy they do over there in the Ancestral Homeland, but good golly, Miss Molly. I’ve had fish and chips from Lord knows how many English, Irish, or Scottish-themed “pubs” and other restaurants here in the US. None had come close.