Mid-March, and the azaleas are blooming — the annual explosion, the Charleston spring, the city performing its most extravagant gesture with the confidence of a place that has been beautiful for three hundred years and that considers the beauty its job. I walk to work through the blooming and I am fifty years old, and fifty is the age where the azaleas look different than they did at forty — not less beautiful but more temporary, the beauty carrying within it the awareness that the blooming will end, and the ending is what makes the blooming matter.
I have begun writing the cookbook. Not the journal — the book. I sit at the desk Robert built, at five AM, with coffee, and I write Chapter One, which is about Mama's she-crab soup, which is not the first recipe in the collection but is the first story, because the story of the soup is the story of the book: a daughter learning from a mother, a recipe passing from one pair of hands to another, the hands changing but the recipe remaining, and the remaining is the point.
The writing is slow. The slowness is not a problem. The slowness is the method. The cookbook is not a sprint but a roux — dark, patient, requiring constant attention and the willingness to stand and stir and not rush, because rushing the roux ruins the roux and rushing the book ruins the book.
James is preparing for graduation — the College of Charleston commencement, in person this year, masked but present, the ceremony that the Class of 2021 almost did not get. The ceremony is scheduled for May 8th. I have already planned the dinner.
I made she-crab soup — not just for dinner but for the book. I made the soup while I wrote about the soup, and the making and the writing happened simultaneously at the stove and the counter, the pen and the pot, the words and the cream, and the simultaneity was the book's method: the cooking is the writing. The writing is the cooking. The two are one activity performed by one woman in one kitchen, and the oneness is the book.
The soup was for the book, and the book was for Mama, and somewhere in the middle of all that slow stirring I realized I was hungry for something I could eat standing at the counter — something with the satisfying crunch that a roux never gives you, that golden resistance that reminds you the coast is right outside the window. Crispy fish felt right: it’s the kind of recipe that rewards patience at the oil, the same patience the roux demands, and here in Charleston, where the harbor is never far from any kitchen, frying fish is its own kind of writing — hot and immediate and done when it’s done.
Crispy Fish & Chips
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs white fish fillets (cod or haddock), cut into portions
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon salt, plus more for seasoning
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon paprika
- 1 cup cold beer or cold sparkling water
- 1 egg, lightly beaten
- 4 large russet potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch strips
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)
- Malt vinegar and lemon wedges, for serving
Instructions
- Prep the chips. Soak potato strips in cold water for at least 15 minutes. Drain well and pat completely dry with paper towels — moisture is the enemy of a crispy chip.
- First fry the chips. Heat oil in a deep, heavy pot to 325°F. Fry the potatoes in batches for 4–5 minutes until just tender but not yet golden. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a wire rack. Do not crowd the pot.
- Make the batter. Whisk together 1 cup of the flour, baking powder, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika in a bowl. Add the cold beer (or sparkling water) and the beaten egg; whisk until a smooth, thick batter forms. The batter should coat the back of a spoon. Refrigerate while you raise the oil temperature.
- Second fry the chips. Raise oil temperature to 375°F. Return the par-cooked chips to the oil and fry in batches for 3–4 minutes until deep golden and crispy. Drain on the rack, season immediately with salt, and keep warm in a low oven (200°F).
- Fry the fish. Pat fish fillets dry and season lightly with salt. Dredge each fillet in the remaining 1/2 cup of plain flour, shaking off the excess, then dip fully into the batter. Carefully lower into the 375°F oil and fry in batches for 4–5 minutes, turning once, until the batter is deeply golden and the fish is cooked through and flakes easily.
- Drain and serve. Lift fish from the oil with a slotted spoon and drain briefly on the wire rack. Serve immediately alongside the crispy chips, with malt vinegar, lemon wedges, and tartar sauce if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 680mg