A fish shop supper
Welsh corned beef rissoles recipe
“We’re having a fish and chip from the fish shop” is how my Nannie Gwen would describe getting a take-away bag of chips from the chip shop – if that’s what you call it. Fish shop (merging into a single word) just seems to have sunk into my vocabulary as the name of the place, but I still don’t talk about fish and chip in the singular, as my nan did. I suppose she omitted ‘supper’ from the end, which would once have been there to give it a bit more sense – because I can confirm, it was never just one chip.
As take-aways go, it’s probably the one I have most. As much as I would cook it at home, you just can’t quite get the same taste as when it’s been deep dried at the fish shop (there I go again). Sometimes, with my Nanna Lena and Poppa, we’d be posh and have fish and chips ‘sat down’ in the legendary Vacara’s in Newport – they’ve been serving up glistening golden portions of chips for more than 100 years. Nan and Pop would have cod and chips and a cup of tea, and my brother and I would have chip sarnies and a sausage. It was all severed up by the little old ladies who ran the café part. As usual, everyone who passed the table would say hello to my grandparents – I think everyone in Newport knew Lena and Nobby.
Sit-down fish and chips is a very different affair of course than a take-out, and it would perhaps change my order. But I haven’t ‘sat in’ in a long while. And that’s the thing, a fish and chip shop order is one of those deeply personal things. Everyone has their order. Is it classic cod, perhaps haddock? A sausage in batter or a fishcake? Mushy peas (yes!), gravy, curry sauce? The permutations are seemingly endless. And then there’s the salt and vinegar debate. My mum is staunchly against. I’ve said before that I need a generous shake of salt on my chips and a slathering of enough vinegar to make my eyes water. That does mean, of course, that I have to eat them at alarming speed so that they don’t go soggy (the worst-case scenario for a chip), even if that means burning my mouth. But no pain no gain and all that, and chips are better if you have to slightly wait for them to be cooked, because then you get them fresh – even if at nuclear temperature.
A take-out fish and chips is also a bit different when it’s by the seaside. Are they open or wrapped? In a cone with a wooden two-tined fork? When we used to go to my nan’s caravan in Trecco Bay in Porthcawl, we certainly combined all of the above. It’s still a ritual that if any of my family ever goes on a caravan holiday, the first night must be fish and chips in the van. And those were the best times in my nan’s caravan. I’d have a sausage in batter and chips, my brother would have the holy grail of Welsh chip shop choices: a rissole (more on that later), and my mum and nan would have fish. The fish and chip shop on the site (it’s now the reception) was the best one.
While we went to get the chips, Nan would butter rounds of white Braces bread and stack them butter-to-butter on a plate in the middle of the dining table – the table that we later had to flip up to make into a bed. The butter would melt and form droplets as the hot chips got squashed against it. We’d press it down like a crisp sandwich but without the crunch. And wash it all down with a Panda Pop the sort of colour that definitely wasn’t made using natural colourings.
Nan made us put everything on plates then. But there’s nothing like having chips out of paper. It doesn’t taste right otherwise. And it’s a part of the ritual, to ingest a little bit of the paper that’s glued itself to the chip upon wrapping. One thing that my nan couldn’t do anything about, however, was the lingering scent of a fish and chip supper. There’s a particular smell – you’ll know it – that the vinegar, batter, cooking fat and the paper make when they are combined. It’s a fragrance that is unmistakable. Try going into someone’s house if they’ve just had a chippy tea, and you’ll instantly recognise it, no matter how much Febreze has been sprayed, how many windows have been opened or how many Neutradols have been strategically placed. Walk by someone who’s munching on an open bag of chips and you’ll instantly crave them.
Of course, on occasion, you can have bad fish and chips, which can make the perfect Friday night dinner a bitter disappointment. My family can’t be the only ones that will recommend a good fish and chip shop to people. The tip usually consists of not going to the one on the seafront, and instead to the one up a few side streets. “The batter was beautiful, not soggy at all and the fish was lovely and white”. And who doesn’t want to avoid a bad fish and chip shop? Although, as Nigella Lawson said at a talk I went to last year, “A bad chip is still a chip”.
The Recipe
Corned beef rissoles
I was nosing through the Instagram stories of food and travel writer Karyn Noble recently as she travelled the coast of Wales. One of them was a picture of a chip shop advertising ‘classic Welsh corned beef rissoles’. She was rather taken with them and somewhat delighted that they were nothing like the Australian rissoles, which are beef patties. I take for granted that everyone has enjoyed the wonders of a chip-shop rissole, as growing up in South Wales, they were (and still are) available in every fish and chip shop. Here’s my take, if you want to make them at home – they are a lot easier than you might think – although you’ll never beat one from the fish shop.
Ingredients (makes 6)
2 large potatoes, peeled and roughly chopped
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 tin (340g) of corned beef, roughly cubed
1tsp dried thyme
½tsp ground white pepper (although black will do if it’s all you have)
Flour
2 eggs
100g breadcrumbs
Sunflower/vegetable oil for deep frying
Method
Put the potatoes in a saucepan and cover with cold water and lightly salt before boiling until soft enough to mash.
Meanwhile, very slowly soften the onion in a pan for about 20 minutes or until the potatoes are done.
Drain the potatoes and return to the pan and give them a little mash. Then tip in the onions, corned beef, thyme and pepper until it’s all combined in a wonderful mush. Allow to cool.
When ready, put the flour in one dish, beat the eggs in another, and put the breadcrumbs in a third. Heat the oil in deep pan.
Take handfuls of the potato mash mixture and make into balls just a bit smaller than a tennis ball but bigger than a golf ball. Dredge in the flour, then the egg, then the breadcrumbs.
Cook in the hot oil for a few minutes until the breadcrumbs turn golden and then turn to cook the other side.
Allow to cool slightly on kitchen paper to absorb any excess oil. Enjoy with chips or on their own, or even with a nice salad.
You could easily half this recipe if you don’t want to make six. Here are some ideas with what you could do with your other half a tin of corned beef:
If you try the recipe out, don’t forget to tag any photos with #mywelshkitchen.
The Playlist
To me, cooking and music go hand in hand, whether that’s singing at the top of your voice using a wooden spoon as a microphone while waiting for pasta to boil, or dancing around with the oven gloves on as the oven timer counts down. Here are this week’s ideas for your Welsh Kitchen playlist.
Up first today, we have the Welsh of the West End, who recently appeared on Britain’s Got Talent. All I can say it that they were robbed! Next up we have folk singer Mari Mathias from Talgarreg near the Ceredigion coastline.
From Now On by Welsh of the West End
Rebel by Mari Mathias
The Pantry
Good food is nothing without good ingredients and thankfully there are plenty of fantastic Welsh products on the market. Here is where you’ll find recommendations to stock up your cupboard, fridge or fruit bowl, or a really great place for food.
Samosa Co
This family-run business was started 40 years ago in Toronto, but is now based in Pontyclun, and serving up glorious Indian snacks, such as samosas, bhajis, chutneys and more to the discerning Welsh public. They do lovely chutney hamper boxes if you’re looking for a great gastronomic gift, plus all types of dhals and curries, too.
A big thank you
If you didn’t see it, one of my favourite food writers Nicola Miller asked me to write about my favourite Welsh food books for her fantastic newsletter, Tales From Topographic Kitchens. Have a read below and don’t forget to subscribe to Nicola’s newsletter.
