William Fortune built his smokehouse on Henrietta Street in 1872, under the East Cliff where the abbey looks down, and the kippers still come out of the same tarred sheds a century and a half later — herring split, brined and hung over oak smoulder, sold from the doorway wrapped in paper. The fifth generation runs it: brothers Derek and Barry Brown, descended through the Fortune line's daughters — the surname told correctly here, where most guides blur it — with the sixth generation already working the smoke. The Princess Royal takes delivery, the television chefs make pilgrimage, and the shed's interior has not been meaningfully redecorated since Gladstone was in office. The definitive Whitby taste, unchanged on principle.
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