Conscience salving fish and chips with homemade tartar sauce

I am awake at the ungodly hour of 3am following a lurch from blissful sleep to a state of high alert. Fortunately this isn’t the result of some awful household crisis but rather a vague but strong recollection that there was something which I really should have done before going to bed.

I usually avoid any sort of meaningful activity during the hour or so before going to sleep; it’s the time when my brain’s shutting down, I’m not worthy of any sort of conversation and I’ve probably put the car keys in the fridge.  Yesterday morning I emptied out the contents of my breadbin (a week’s worth of leftover crusts and slightly stale slices) and, not being one for waste, decided to put them into the cooler of my ovens to slowly dry out enough to be turned into breadcrumbs. I intended to take them out that evening but, it not being the most involved of activities, I’d understandably forgotten all about them.  God alone knows what my neurons are up to but for some reason I’m suddenly awake, remembering and investigating the oven with an opportune cup of tea.

I hate throwing food away and the remains of loaves are a particular obsession of mine.  After consuming a seemingly gargantuan amount of bread during the week the remaining dried crusts usually fester unwanted in the breadbin. At this time of year they’re usually accompanied by various half eaten packs of crackers and the occasional digestive biscuit.  When these leftovers begin to outweigh the fresh items they’re put in the oven to dry out before a quick blitz in the food processor turns them into perfect rough, crunchy breadcrumbs. They are then stashed away in a jar ready for use, usually when I get the urge to make fish and chips.

To digress slightly, the cooler oven I mentioned earlier forms part of my aged oil fired range (I must stress we are definitely not talking posh aga here). It comprises two ovens, one hot, one approximately half that temperature. The range ticks over constantly and has been the main source of heat and cooking in my kitchen for quite a few years.  It does have a tendency to behave ‘independently’ which, if I were a character in a country based TV sit-com, would be charming and endearing, but I’m not and it isn’t! I’d always wanted one and, at a time when I was stony broke, it was bought for a song off ebay.  Over the years I feel we’ve got to know each other well but It has been a feat of Heath Robinson style ingenuity to achieve anything like accurate temperatures; I’m amazed that I’ve been able to feed a anybody at all let alone run a business with it. Consequently I was a very happy woman when I finally bit the bullet and took possession of a fabulous new (and controllable!) oven just before Christmas.   I’m still at the stage when I occasionally stroke it as I walk past and I frequently scrutinise it for spillages.  It’s a shiny beacon of certainty in my otherwise erratic kitchen.

Back to the food.

In a continued effort to provide a version of fast food without the hassle of a drive, here is my adaptation of fish and chips.  It’s conscience salving from the point of view that the chips are baked using only a very small amount of oil.  The fish can also be baked but I have to admit to liking the flavour of the quickly fried crumb coating.   I suppose that baking the items in the oven should mean that you can safely award yourself the pleasure of an indulgently rich tartar style sauce but personally I don’t need an excuse.

Conscience salving fish and chips with homemade tartar sauce.

Fillets of white fish (Coley is fabulous; far, far cheaper than cod or haddock).

Flour (just enough to toss the fish fillets in)

Egg

Lemon

Potatoes (Maris Piper or King Edwards are great varieties)

Mayonnaise

Crème  fraiche

Gherkins

Capers

Cooking oil

Dill (optional)

Fish.

Remove any skin and cut the fillets into fish finger size lengths, size is not critical but it’ll cook quicker if the pieces aren’t too big. Have ready a plate of plain flour (seasoned with salt and pepper, a bowl containing one beaten egg and finally a plate of breadcrumbs.  Take each piece of fish, toss it in the flour, dip and thoroughly coat in the beaten egg, then finally roll it in the breadcrumbs  The flour may seem unnecessary but don’t leave it out, it does help the egg adhere to the fish and seems to result in a better final texture.

Heat just under a centimetre of cooking oil in a frying pan. Test it by frying a small piece of bread, when it gently sizzles the oil is ready.  Fry a few pieces of fish at a time until golden brown on each side. Remove and keep warm in the oven whilst frying the rest. Break open a piece of fish if you want to check it’s cooked through. Alternatively you can avoid frying altogether by lightly oiling an oven tray, placing the fish onto it and baking in oven.  Turn after about 10 minutes. Test five minutes later to see if it’s cooked through.  Leave in longer if not.

Chunky chips

Peel as many potatoes as required.  Cut lengthways into four (more if the potatoes are really big).  Toss in just enough oil to coat (a tablespoon will probably be plenty).  Arrange on a baking tray, cut sides uppermost and put into a very hot oven for about half an hour or as long as it takes for the chips to deepen in colour and slightly char along the edges.  They will have a lovely, non-greasy crispness but will be fluffy in the centre.

A variation on tartar sauce

­­­­­­­­­­­Mix crème fraiche and mayonnaise in equal quantities (less or more of one depending on your personal taste).  Slice a gherkin lengthways then across into small dice.  Roughly chop a few caper and add both to the sauce.  I usually add a squeeze of lemon and finally chopped dill but use whichever flavours you like, a little tarragon works well with fish.

Add peas (mushy or otherwise) if you wish but for me a squeeze of lemon over the fish and a generous sprinkle of sea salt over everything is ultimate heaven.

I must just add one brief footnote to all this talk of technical marvelry.  Beautiful though my new oven is I can’t put my dressing gown on top of it and gently warm it through whilst I remove the said breadcrumbs and make that cup of tea.  Comfort is everything so the range stays.

Right, back to bed.