Monday, 16 February 2009

chish and fips

One sunny day last week we drove to the coast and had fish and chip lunch at the Felixstowe Ferry cafe, famous for same. Now I am on the wonderful statins I can eat what I long as I don't mind being fat as a barrage balloon.
I had line caught cod [I am sure it died much happier knowing that it was so special, or is it a long line with many hooks, they can be cunning these fishermen] deep fried [oh the guilty pleasure] in golden batter, and fat, hand cut chips, similarly golden and piled to provide a vast crunchy cushion for the fish, - brown sauce of course.
So fresh, so cheap, just as well it is not nearer.
The cafe is a rather ugly shed, with elderly plastic chairs and tables within spitting distance of the shore, where the foot ferry arrives from Bawdsey, and local people park their boats on the shingle.
Last visit was in the summer, we sat outside with Hattie the dog, mostly because the cafe was full - an interesting mix of the old and grey - and rather stout bikers in black leathers and tattoos.
Both visits were made in the sun, one when it beat down with enthusiasm and last week when it turned the heat down to a shy glimmer.

We walked Hatters along the shore to a big grey old Martello Tower from Naploeonic times. No longer do we fear the French, we are together in the European Market, tho not to the extent of changing to the Euro. The Tower is now a home, designer windows, comforting thick walls still withstand the cold. Global warming may play havoc with the landscaped garden however as the sea rises round our coast.
Hopefully the cafe will remain high and dry and deep frying for many years.


Sue said...

You can't beat fish and chips eaten near the sea.

Walled Garden said...

I buy fish and chips for the batter. I can cook fish at home, but batter needs to be cooked elsewhere. In fact deep fat fryers/friars need to be out of town and downwind. I must admit though, that the fish seems to cook better in a thick coating of batter and stays succulent and chunky. Oh dear! The urge re-visits.
Cheers Gillian