fish & chips
Speaking about England, and small points of conversation that lead to absolute incredulity… a French friend announced the other day that he was really hoping to travel to London as soon as he could find some cheap train fares that corresponded with his work schedule.
The conversation flowed smoothly along those ‘Oh yes, and why is that?’ lines until he dropped the bombshell that he wanted to go to try authentic British fish and chips.
Guillaume and I were stopped in our tracks, only breaking our stunned freeze to lift Guillaume’s dropped jaw from the table and clarify that we had heard right.
‘For the fish and chips?’
All answers in affirmative, and an imaginary point is added to Bettina’s tally. The poor fellow wasn’t to have known that the desirability of fish and chips is an ongoing debate between us…
It all started in the kitchen of a dingy London flat and a United Nations congregation unanimously voting on the choice of the evening’s takeaway. We had a Mexican and an Austrian who had all spent time living in Australia, myself, my brother and Guillaume. It wasn’t only a clear winner (four in favour, one abstention) but a gleeful special treat for our Viennese companion visiting for the weekend.
They say it hurts the first time, and I think our enthusiasm for the greasy and excessively battered waif of a fish rubbed salt (and vinegar) in Guillaume’s wounds.
Not only did he not like it, but could see the respect he’d previously held for us evaporating and drifting off with the odours of the stodgy chips. Convinced there was a conspiracy afoot, he searched our faces for any signs that we were going to crack a smile, announce it to be April Fools Day and confess that we’d been pulling his leg.
No such luck. And with this recent shock revelation, I’m sure all the memories came flooding back to him…
Actually, going through my photos from that flat I managed to find a few other “culinary creations”… is it any wonder I now work with children? (I feel like a bit of a hypocrite telling them not to play with their food!) For the record, the “meal” on the right involved a crêpe! I can’t for the life of my remember why…
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Fun Abroad said,
April 4th, 2008 @ 3:24 pm
Make that 5 in favour of the fish and chips. Sure brings back memories - not of the motherland, but the fact that my folks were in fact the only two people actually from the motherland in the little Aussie town I grew up in. We would traipse into the chip shop and cringe when they asked for 4 chip butties…never heard the end of it at school. Come to think of it, I used to get picked on for saying things like “vitamin” and “beetroot” like a pom too….more shame me.
Bettina said,
April 6th, 2008 @ 9:29 pm
Thanks for standing by us, Fun Abroad!
Naranja said,
April 8th, 2008 @ 11:02 am
Nothing wrong with playing with your food! I remember convincing three of my friends that the meal we had just made (mash and some stew thing) should be devoured only using our mouths and with no use of fingers and cutlery. It was a messy and fun affair, I to preserve my reputation I better tell you as well that it was in my teens.
Bettina said,
April 8th, 2008 @ 3:38 pm
Better not tell El Rubio about that one in the future, Naranja!
val said,
April 11th, 2008 @ 12:37 am
Urgh! The batter looks so thick.
It reminded me of my days growing up as a child in England and a special supper treat was to go the local fishshop and ask for sixpence worth of scraps. The scraps were in fact scraps of batter! I’m amazed I’m still alive.
Bettina said,
April 11th, 2008 @ 8:04 am
Val, it’s not just when you were a child! Even a few years ago I found myself (on the request of others!) ordering the same thing - except the “luxury” of scraps costs a lot more than sixpence!
John Pash said,
June 28th, 2008 @ 11:16 am
I’m dying for a decent plate of fush & chups here in Paris. Does it exist? I’m too weak from hunger to leave my flat and search.
Bettina said,
July 3rd, 2008 @ 12:16 pm
Look, you find me Tim Tams and I find you fish & chips… Do we have a deal?