How Fish and Chips Became My Designer Drug

If you've been reading for a while you might remember my introduction to fish and chips. If you don't (and don't care to click that lil' ol' link I just made) I will summarize for you:

Skeptical Jenny O listens to her mother (and others) and dutifully tries native food whilst in Portsmouth, England; her mind (and taste buds) are summarily blown.

So yes, I am now what one might call A Fan of fish and chips, although I have not had them since that fateful day, over three months ago. Recently, however, a Craving rose up in me, and I started to make pathetic I-Need-Fish-and-Chips noises to my dutiful husband. Sunday night we agreed we'd go out and get some during the week. We were going to go out last night, but between one thing and another (Nathan not feeling well and me being Utterly Exhausted and in bed before nine) we didn't. But we promised each other we'd go out tonight, after my eye exam.

We figured that The Fish Market would have fish and chips, but as it turned out they use a country style cornmeal batter for their fried fish, so that was a no-go. The next place Nathan located was McCormick and Schmick's, but I took one look at their menu and realized I could not bring myself to pay $16 a plate for what is essentially the British equivalent of a Big Mac. My boss gave me a few suggestions, and I used them as a springboard to do a little research of my own, until I found The Fox and the Hound. They didn't have their menu online, but I called up and was reassured that yes- they carried properly beer-battered fish and chips, for about $9 a plate. That was more reasonable, so Nate and I declared Success.

As we were walking in he said that it wouldn't be as good as it was in the UK, and I told him I knew that- I knew that it was basically like heroin, and I would spend the rest of my life in search of that "perfect high"- ie, fish and chips that would live up to my memories of the First Time. But I hoped it would at least be "good", if not "perfect". That it might dull the craving for a while, if not fully satisfy it.

Weeelllll.... it kind of did. But as much as I thought I'd braced myself for the disappointment, I must have still been hoping in my secret heart. I was expecting a piece the size of my forearm (we'd had cod, before) but instead it was four tiny pieces, each not even the length of my hand (Nathan posits they were culled from white fish). And rather than the dense, velvety-smooth-yet-flaky flesh I remembered, these guys were... a little gritty. And the batter wasn't airy and crisp- the whole thing was sort of... limp. But the flavor of the batter was okay. And the vinegar was good.

::sigh::

We have to go back to the UK.

Speaking of which, check out Nate's shot from today, which, when I first came in and glanced at it, I thought was from our trip.

(backalley)