After finding an even better fish fry at the British Bulldog (see review), I returned to Royal Hilltop to see how it had stood up over the past few years. And after a couple of those pints and another fish fry, I'm happy to say that I still like it. Granted, I don't like it as much as I do the Bulldog, but that's largely because of the Bulldog menu's unusual geographic focus and that saloon's own geography, in a building that comes with more than a hundred years of history -- while the Royal Hilltop, to date, has accumulated only four. But the batter-jacketed cod here is still what it ought to be: crisp and greasy and redolent of childhood and Catholicism. The chips are fresh-cut, excellent with a couple shakes of malt vinegar. And the Murphy's stout off the tap is thick and black and creamy. Most important, the Hilltop was packed last Thursday night -- every table full and standing room only at the bar. It was loud and warm and close, the crowd a mix of weekend drinkers getting an early start and families having a night out, the vibe friendly and welcoming. Four years ago, the Pachoreks set out to create a bar for the neighborhood. Today, it's clear they've succeeded.