Something fishy
I’m thinking strawberries and cream, ratatouille mopped up with crusty bread, the irresistible whiff of barbecued burgers, and chicken thighs wafting over sunny parks.
But mostly, I’m thinking snap-fresh fish ’n‘ chips.
I love fish ’n‘ chips. When it’s done well, that deliciously simple pairing of succulent fish and crispy batter delivers everything that’s good about food — it fills a hole, scratches an itch in your soul, is good to share, and doesn’t shred your wallet like a shark.
When it’s done well, that is. Fish ’n‘ chips may be a simple concept, but it’s still far easier to find a bad example than a good one. Lifeless bits of cod congealing in chippers spring to mind — battered hours in advance and steadily assuming a soggy, bread-like consistency.
A good batter should be light and airy, crunchy to bite but melty in the mouth. The tempura coating at Fishy Fishy’s chipper in Kinsale is a prime example. It tasted so light, when I first tried it, I thought it could have been made with sparkling water. Then I bought Martin Shanahan’s cookbook, and found out it actually was made with sparkling water.
Batter is being creatively carbonated in Dublin, too. One of the city’s hottest new restaurants, Bite, on South Frederick St, serves haddock in a vodka and beer batter. The Exchequer gastropub batters its ling fingers in blonde ale from the Dungarvan Brewing Company.
By now, you’ll have a sense of my obsession. It’s worth outlining, though, if only to tee up the fact that when I walked into Guy’s Bar & Snug in Clifden one mist-draped Thursday night, the last thing I expected was the first cracking fish ’n‘ chips of summer.
Clifden is celebrating its 200th anniversary, though Guy’s exudes a much younger sensibility than some of the town’s better-known pubs. It takes the form of two rooms, one dominated by a bar, the other divided into cosy snugs. I’ve no idea how old the place is, but it immediately manages to feel both hip and comforting.
I took a seat facing the fireplace. A few briquettes burned in the hearth, throwing a glow over tables dressed in floral and gingham cloths. Tasselled lamps, thick candles, and an old clock on the mantelpiece completed the railway-carriage-like feeling of intimacy.
The evening menu was a simple affair with starters including seafood chowder, chicken wings with a blue cheese dip, and warm goat’s cheese with roast vegetables on baby leaves. Mains ranged from pizzas to a beef and Guinness stew, a Thai red chicken curry, and my choice, the “traditional” fish ’n‘ chips — priced fairly steeply, it has to be said, at €15.50.
The first surprise was the presentation. Two large triangles of battered cod arrived criss-crossed on a large, flat pizza plate. Alongside them were a clump of salad, a ramekin of tartar sauce, a shot of mushy peas, and a bowl of chips. The portion was generous and good-looking.
Losing little time, I bit into the batter. It was very good — not hard, not dense, not smothering the fish like a soggy sleeping bag. It was pale gold in colour, giving a slight, crispy resistance before yielding to the cod within. I tasted beer, milk, and salt. And the cod was firm and juicy.
Guy’s runs a wine shop, from which you can buy a bottle and drink it with your meal for a €5 corkage fee, but I settled for a pint of Guinness. That’s another thing to love about fish ’n‘ chips. It stands up to almost anything you can throw at it.
Sadly, the chips fell short of the standards set by the fish — there was no art to them. The mushy peas, however, were made with proper Marrowfats, pale green and fluffy. The tartar was a tad runny, but tart enough to play off the yeasty batter and meaty fish.
And that was it. No Michelin Stars. No AA Rosettes. Not even dessert (though Moroccan orange cake, apple and berry crumble, and warm chocolate pudding were among the offerings). Summer was on the horizon, and I left with a hearty glow, full of good cheer for Guy’s.
