noodlepie

Never mind the cod, here's the pollacks

Do you remember the scraps of batter, crusty fish, malt vinegar, salt and soggy paper in the bottom of fish n chip wrappers of yesteryear? Well, according to Steve Busfield, now some poncey restaurant is trying to charge for them. While I disagree that scraps are a northern thing - they existed in Rugby which is hardly shipbuilding and mining country, but Steve does have a point,

"the crispy batter leftovers have long been a delicacy. And a staple/treat for young Tykes. I remember scores of youngsters finishing cub scouts of an evening and immediately trooping round to the chippie and asking for bags of scraps. Those with money might invest in a bag of chips. But the scraps were free. And delicious."

All true. However, I have absolutely no problem with someone charging for them because only idiots will buy them. On a related theme - fish n chips - and also in The Graun - I've added the links...

Fish stocks are vulnerable and this year's so-called summer has played havoc with crops of potatoes and made prematurely mushy peas. The country's 10,500 chippies have offered exceptional value for such a long time. That matters, especially in those areas where the meal is the only cheap and cheerful way to eat out, and the process of buying it a social ritual as strong as going to the pub. But a generally more prosperous country can afford to pay more, and will. The greater test is the need to safeguard cod and haddock and accept less familiar fish inside the batter sleeve. Huss and chips, anyone? How about skate, some
mahi-mahi, next to those mushy peas?

When will Brits lose their faith in cod? Huss, plaice, pollack, wolf fish are all perfectly tasty and (I think) ethically acceptable, sustainable and all that green blah-di-blah-di-blah. As discussed previously the Brits have no taste buds, so stop fannying around and serve them pollack, just tell them they're eating cod. The North Sea will love you for it and the wooden palated British customer will be absolutely none the wiser.

Technorati Tags: Fish and chips, British food, north sea fish stocks

Haddock and chips, please

I have a ticket. Now I must wait for four weeks.

Hands off the national dish

I linked to this in the 'nibbles' column, but this pic from The Sun is so good, I thought I'd paste it here. Basically, the story is; a bunch of attention seeking treehuggers are out to make fish 'n' chips a thing of the past. Yeah right... over my dead guts. Or as one chippie owner near Swansea says, "Have they not got anything batter to do?"

"Vegetarian group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) has traditionally campaigned against people wearing fur coats or the killing of farmyard animals.

Now it wants fish suppers taken off the menu because it says the tasty underwater creatures are "intelligent" and feel pain when caught.

PETA's Dawn Carr said: "We are not pulling any punches on this one. We don't think people should eat fish at all - and if that means they do not eat fish and chips then so be it." from The Sun

According to The Daily Telegraph, "The call is part of (PETA's) "fish empathy" project, which claims that fish are no more deserving of being eaten than a dog or cat."

Precisely. That's Asia off the hook then. As for The Sun's verdict, "DON'T eat fish and chips because it's cruel to the fish. That's the crackpot idea of a bunch of vegetarians. We know what Sun readers will do with their advice. Take it with a pinch of salt... And lashings of vinegar."

Brit sea scoff

I've mentioned my admiration for British nosh before and, after a hefty stint in SE Asia, nothing rises the noodlepie sap higher than the scent of cod-infused deep fried fat wafting down a chilly British street of an afternoon. However, on my recent blast through the Shetland Islands I was on the trail of something a bit special - Britain's most northerly chippie. I'd emailed the tourism board a couple of times from Saigon to see if they knew where this great British landmark might be. I was surprised to hear that they weren't sure. I'd kind of assumed 'Britain's most northerly chippie' would be well-known. Arriving in Shetland, a helpful Czech girl at the tourist board offices by the name of Misa - yes - Czech, not Shetlandic and extremely knowledgeable about the islands - suggested three joints all in Lerwick; Fort Cafe Takeaway, the Happy Haddock and Ian's Chip shop. I was suspicious. If you look at the map here, Lerwick is pretty far south and Unst, Fetlar and Yell look like sizeable chunks of Britain further north. Surely, they'd have a chippie a hop, skip and a ferry away up the road?

It turns out my Czech mate was spot on. The islanders further north have to steam south for their fish 'n' chips fix. OK - so we were down to the three locations all in Lerwick. Ian's Chip Shop looked like it had fried its last, or it was going through rather messy renonvation work. Whatever - it was closed - which left us two options; Happy Haddock and the Fort Cafe. Unfortunately, I have the mapsense of a short-sighted homing pigeon with Alzheimer's, and wasn't carrying a GPS phone. So, I needed a second opinion. Ever helpful Gordon Williamson, from the Herrislea House Hotel, put me on the right track, "There's nothing north of Lerwick. Your most northerly chippie? That'll be the Happy Haddock." But, did the staff at the Happy Haddock on Commercial Road know they were presiding over a potential marketing goldmine as 'Britain's most northerly chippie'?? Nah, never even crossed their minds.

This 'Fish supper', as it's known in Scotland, will set you back £3.80. Actually, a 'proper' fish supper should come with a fish and a half, but I was missing the half here. There's a small eat-in area at the Happy Haddock, which is located (handily) next to a fishmonger and The Douglas Arms boozer. The scoff is decent. The chips were fresh and hot. Can't stand knackered old chips, refried or whatever and these were fresh out of the pan. The haddock was fresh enough, although it wasn't exactly flipping out of the chip paper. The all important batter was slightly soft on the inside, the way it should be, and firmed to a golden crisp on the outside. All in all, a satisfying chippie chowdown at 'Britain's most northerly chippie'. You heard it here first (I think).

Back in town, at the foot of the old fort and a screwed up chip paper's throwaway from the harbour front is the Fort Cafe Takeaway. Perhaps because of its more central location, and its larger and separate sit-in area, this spot was far busier than the Happy Haddock. Although this was a pieman lunch stop, the Happy Haddock was an early evening affair which could have made a difference. OK - looks wise - it's all a bit sad, but how's the scoff?

One of the great things about British fish 'n' chips is the sense of anticipation before unwrapping the salty, vinegary, fishy fried delights inside. Like Christmas, but better. (Although I'll admit, if you got a Terry's Chocolate Orange last year - you could argue a good case for Christmas.)

Inside we have a £3.50 haddock fish supper (with added half of fish) in a polystyrene box. Fish quality was good, if a little 'spongey' in the middle. The batter veered towards soggy on the inside which was troubling. It's such a delicate art to get the crispiness on the outside and the right amount of softness on the inside. Too soggy and much of it will be inedible glop, as was the case on this visit. The chips weren't entirely fresh, although that didn't seem to bother the seagull who happily squarwked his satisfaction at my cast offs as I watched the ferry depart on its 7 minute scoot over the pond to Bressay. Fort cafe might be cheaper, but you'll be a lot happier at the Happy Haddock.

I've mentioned this place in Oban on the west coast of Scotland before. Refurbished since pieman and noodlegirl last hogged down here, it still serves a sucker sea punch to other fish fryers in Britain. I nattered with the owner, while our haddock fried, to gleen a few facts about their trade. During the high season they'll serve 500 customers per day and the fish is delivered twice a week from Oban based fishermen who freeze their catch at sea. This is the only chippie I have found thus far that I would (and did) travel 6,000 miles to eat at.

The revamp means fancy new boxes like those above, aswell as a framed picture on the chippie wall taken when ace chef Rick Stein popped in for a fill and a menu replete with noncey new dishes. Oh, and don't try that web address on the box. Sadly, it doesn't work. Shaky opening times and a late train meant we very nearly missed eating here. Talk about being anxious. We just squeezed this in straight off the train late one Sunday night.

Inside the snazzy box is £4.20 haddock & chips - the most expensive chippie on this jaunt and 'Yes' - it is worth it. Less greasy than all the others I sampled, the fish flakes off in chunks and the batter is done to perfection. Some of the chips did stick to the greasepaper, but half the fun's peeling them off anyhow, and they weren't too thick as some tend to be. Oban Fish & Chip shop fry your fish to order, so there's none of those sad looking tepid chaps hanging around the hot plate area. It's generally a good sign if a chippie tells you, you'll have to wait 10 minutes for your supper. I will be back (again and again).

In Glasgow, it was a different story at the Blue Lagoon next to Central Station. An old haunt had disappeared and, pushed for time, we dropped in here. It looked kinda posh, but unlike Oban we were greeted by a few sad fried cod & haddock waiting for customers. We coughed up £3.95 for a fish supper each before finding a pew on Buchanan Street to get stuffed.

This unhappy looking haddock didn't look hot and didn't taste top, although the flesh flaked the way it should. After all, if you're running a chippie, the very least you can do is fry fresh and serve piping hot, surely? Not that it was awful, it was just a bit amateur and I doubt I'll be back.

Well, That about 'wraps up' this year's British fish 'n' chop shop review, hope you enjoyed it. There'll be more in 2005, if not before. I have already heard from multiple sources that the Anstruther Fry in Fife, Scotland is the new cod on the block. And when in London, I never fail to to make an appointment with the sublime Two Brothers at 297-303 Regent's Park Road. If you do have any recommendations for your favourite Brit chippie, please let me know. I'm half of mind to use the extra blog space Typepad gives to start a fish 'n' chip 'open' blog soon. Meanwhile, get your Home cooked fish 'n' chips just right with a little help from the BBC.

Fish 'n' Chip blues

After England inexplicably chucked it all away against Les bleus the other night I was looking for more than just comforting words. I needed food from home and only Britain's fat, stodgey, lard-laden best would do. I needed Fish 'n' Chips. I found it in the Irish Pub - Sheridan's Irish House - at 17/13 Le Thanh Ton Street in District 1. Sheridan's menu is a boon for resident and transient lard-arsed Anglo-saxons. There's a Dublin Fry-up (Eggs, bacon, potatoes, tomato, beans, sausages and fried bread) for 80,000VD, a Farmer's Omelette (Potato, bacon and onions) for 55,000VD and then there's Fish 'n' Chips. Britain's national dish and a perennial fixture in pieman's all time tucker top ten.

The beer battered Fish 'n' Chips - actually French Fries, not real chunky Brit-chips - comes with coleslaw, tartare sauce, lemon slices and mushy peas. The fish comes in separate bites not the 'official' one fillet version. The batter is solid and quite thick. It's got a decent crunch to it, but lacks any distinctive taste. Fish and batter are the deciding factors when making quality Fish 'n' Chips and each should be bought and made with reverential care and attention. Sheridan's fish wasn't fresh on this visit.

As with every 'beer-battered' fish I've ever had, there's not a sniff of hops in the mix. I've tried making beer battered fish myself and I'm convinced it's impossible to retain any beer essence in the aftermath of a deep fat fryer fish funeral. Better just drink the stuff. The coleslaw is a mayo-heavy mess, but the Mushy peas are a 'triffic score in Brit-food-free Vietnam even if they aren't 'chip shop style'. As for the 'chips', they had been cooked earlier and re-heated.... Oh dear... that's just plain lazy. The tartare sauce was bland and lacked bite. However, the vital salt and vinegar accompaniments are on tap as are HP Sauce and Heinz Tomato Ketchup.

After that slaggin' you might think I hated it - I didn't. This is good comfort food in an atmospheric, homely, traditional pub setting. It's a reasonably faithful rendition, just not a brilliant one. When it comes to your national dish you've gotta have some standards and this is just average. It wouldn't cut it on the streets of Britain, but at 85,000VD it costs the same as a small town England chippy. A pint of Amber draught is 50,000VD. The Vietnam Brewery started brewing Amber, Vietnam's first and only Irish Stout style beer, in 2003. There's less of a hoppish bitter bite to a pint of Amber than any of its Irish relatives. It's worth a snort, but it's not a patch on the dark beer at the Hoavien Brauhaus. View the business card.

In other news...

'OBAN FISH AND CHIP RESTAURANT' IS THE COD'S BOLLOCKS

Photo nicked from The Oban Times

Via the power of google juice, there's mild elation in the air at pieman towers today. I discovered to my delight that Rick Stein, my favourite BBC TV Chef of late, agrees with me here that a little known chippy on the west coast of Scotland serves the world's finest Fish 'n' Chips.

Unfortunately, Oban isn't always convenient for a day trip from Saigon. The two-storey Sheridan's will have to do for comfort nosh following any further calamitous England appearances at Euro 2004. Fish 'n' Chips can also be found at Al Fresco's and The Underground. I haven't tried them yet, perhaps I should. Any top tips for a decent expat fill, belch them into the comment box.