Justified: British chips are healthy. Well. That might be a slight bold-faced lie. But it's not…read moreentirely without a grain of truth. Whilst in England this August, and surrounded by chips, chips and gravy, chips and mushy peas, fish and chips, and sausage and chips, I stumbled upon a few internet articles that broke down the calorie count in typical English fare. (See, a few internet articles! Corroboration! It must be true.) Amongst the standard take-away choices, fish and chips was the healthy choice. But the standard take-away consisted of Indian curry, donner kebab, Chinese, pizza, and fish and chips. In other words, fish and chips were the least likely to cause a heart attack, although all were more certain to cause a heart attack than a home cooked meal. And a home cooked meal does NOT include popping several frozen dinners into the oven/microwave. Just like home made custard does not mean adding Byrd's powder to real milk.
Back to my justified article. Vis-a-vis American fries, the British chip had less fat because the chip is bigger. Thus, less surface area-to-volume of potato. Ok. That's really the only scientific part. And even that's not really science. Or a justification.
But what was I going to do? I was in a small, country town, full of sensible people that liked local produce, surrounded by fields and cows, and 4 fish and chips shops. And every restaurant served some version of fish and chips. I couldn't get away from chips. When I closed my eyes, puppet chips would sing and dance. In the shower, I found myself humming a chip-eating song. The wrought iron bars of St. James church looked like chips.
I ate here at least twice. Twice that my BF knows about. It may have been more frequent than that but at this time, I can neither confirm nor deny those reports. The fish was big. Length of my arm big. Haddock. Delicious. Fried fish is amazing. One big downside is that the fried fish is COMPLETELY UNSEASONED! You have to douse it with salt like a vicar exorcizing demons with holy water. And in order to get the salt to stick, you have to spray the filet with vinegar like a tom cat marking new territory. And in order for the vinegar to penetrate the beautiful, breaded, fried exterior, you MUST repeatedly stab the crunchy coating with a fork. The fish and chips come in a sturdy cardboard box with a layer of chips underneath the massive haddock. After I performed the salting ritual as stated above, I had a lovely pile of salt in all 4 corners, and NONE ON MY CHIPS or fish. I was forced to break off a piece of fish, dip it in salt, and let it all come together as I chewed.
I was laughed at when I put pepper on my fish.
