'Chippy'
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest recorded use of the word ‘chips’ was in Charles Dickens’s 1859 epic, A Tale Of Two Cities, when he describes ‘husky chips of potatoes, fried with some reluctant drops of oil’.
Since their invention in Belgium (or France, depending on your point of view) chips have fuelled the nation at work and play. Unlike bread, eggs and meat, fish and chips was unrationed during both world wars with ‘chippies’ ensuring access to basic nutrition, as well as providing a morale-boosting, Friday-night supper.
For those of my neighbours who lived through the worst of the Luftwaffe’s attempts to obliterate the town, the sight of the fishing fleet returning with a catch was uplifting. If not miraculous. The coastline was under siege constantly and the risk of being bombed as they hauled their boats up on to the beaches was considerable.
But no matter how good the fish, it is nothing without handsome, well cut, Englishstyle chips. Wider than their European counterparts (the weedy frites), ours range between 3/4 and 1/2in wide. They are cooked twice, once at a lowish temperature and then again at a higher temperature to make them crispy on the outside. There is nothing worse than a soggy chip with no bite.
Some historians suggest that the chip was probably invented as a substitute for fish. That when the rivers froze over, housewives cut their potatoes into fish-like shapes and served them fried as an alternative.
What we do know is that the first ‘chippy’ was set up in Tommyfield Market in Oldham where the council has erected a plaque that reads: ‘The first chips were fried in Oldham around 1860 from which the origins of fish and chip shops and the “fast food” industries can be traced’.
Hastings doesn’t boast any plaques to its town fryers, but it has a wealth of options. Some swear by The Lighthouse. Many travel for lunch at the glorious Maggie’s, which serves alcohol but no takeaways. However, after a year of intensive, waist-expanding research, I have adopted The Dolphin, perfect for an early-evening takeaway or lunchtime sit down. Tea, bread and butter, pickled eggs, onions, mushy peas – all serve as the essential side stars to perfectly battered fish.
The takeaway window has the added benefit of being opposite the hot-doughnut stall: 4 for £2. Lashes of sugar included. What better pudding?
Next week: Sam Taylor is away.
Since their invention in Belgium (or France, depending on your point of view) chips have fuelled the nation at work and play. Unlike bread, eggs and meat, fish and chips was unrationed during both world wars with ‘chippies’ ensuring access to basic nutrition, as well as providing a morale-boosting, Friday-night supper.
For those of my neighbours who lived through the worst of the Luftwaffe’s attempts to obliterate the town, the sight of the fishing fleet returning with a catch was uplifting. If not miraculous. The coastline was under siege constantly and the risk of being bombed as they hauled their boats up on to the beaches was considerable.
But no matter how good the fish, it is nothing without handsome, well cut, Englishstyle chips. Wider than their European counterparts (the weedy frites), ours range between 3/4 and 1/2in wide. They are cooked twice, once at a lowish temperature and then again at a higher temperature to make them crispy on the outside. There is nothing worse than a soggy chip with no bite.
Some historians suggest that the chip was probably invented as a substitute for fish. That when the rivers froze over, housewives cut their potatoes into fish-like shapes and served them fried as an alternative.
What we do know is that the first ‘chippy’ was set up in Tommyfield Market in Oldham where the council has erected a plaque that reads: ‘The first chips were fried in Oldham around 1860 from which the origins of fish and chip shops and the “fast food” industries can be traced’.
Hastings doesn’t boast any plaques to its town fryers, but it has a wealth of options. Some swear by The Lighthouse. Many travel for lunch at the glorious Maggie’s, which serves alcohol but no takeaways. However, after a year of intensive, waist-expanding research, I have adopted The Dolphin, perfect for an early-evening takeaway or lunchtime sit down. Tea, bread and butter, pickled eggs, onions, mushy peas – all serve as the essential side stars to perfectly battered fish.
The takeaway window has the added benefit of being opposite the hot-doughnut stall: 4 for £2. Lashes of sugar included. What better pudding?
Next week: Sam Taylor is away.