One Last Unhealthy Meal
I am promising myself that tonight was the grand finale of the blubber-building episodes that have played out over the past few days. Starting tomorrow, it's back to healthy food. But tonight, it was time to indulge my terrible weakness for fish and chips.
All summer I'd been thinking that B and I should get ourselves over to the Moon and Sixpence pub for a platter of Portland's best fish and chips. Being the absentminded and disorganized putter-offers that we are, we never managed to get there when it would have still been possible to eat on the patio and thus avoid emerging from the premises feeling as if we'd rolled through an ashtray. Still, my desire for fish and chips had escalated to such an extreme that it overshadowed my aversion to cigarette smoke. I did, however, put careful planning into what I would wear, making certain I wore no dryclean-only garments--only those that could be shed immediately upon our arrival home and quarantined in the washing machine.
So what's so great about the fish and chips at the Moon and Sixpence? I think, for me, it's that they come closest to approximating the fish and chips I've eaten in the U.K. Now, I know that for a lot of people that would be a very good reason to take their business elsewhere. Fair enough, but I'm enough of an Anglophile that I like my fish and chips authentic.
Tonight, however, I found out more than I really wanted/needed to know about the M&P's fish and chips. I learned that the fish (cod) is frozen but that they bread it there at the pub. I don't suppose that I really believed that I was getting ocean-fresh fish for $8.95, but it's pleasant to harbor that delusion. Also, cod. Let's hope it is Pacific cod and not the overfished Atlantic cod. I already feel guilty enough!
When the fish and chips arrived, it looked "different." The fish was weirdly smooth and cylindrical like an extra-long corn dog minus the stick. The portion of chips seemed drastically reduced from what it had been in the past. Fearing that what was sitting on my plate was little more than a glorified fish stick, I dug in anyway. Everything was fine--same as always, that is, extremely delicious, in a non-haute cuisine sort of way, of course.
All summer I'd been thinking that B and I should get ourselves over to the Moon and Sixpence pub for a platter of Portland's best fish and chips. Being the absentminded and disorganized putter-offers that we are, we never managed to get there when it would have still been possible to eat on the patio and thus avoid emerging from the premises feeling as if we'd rolled through an ashtray. Still, my desire for fish and chips had escalated to such an extreme that it overshadowed my aversion to cigarette smoke. I did, however, put careful planning into what I would wear, making certain I wore no dryclean-only garments--only those that could be shed immediately upon our arrival home and quarantined in the washing machine.
So what's so great about the fish and chips at the Moon and Sixpence? I think, for me, it's that they come closest to approximating the fish and chips I've eaten in the U.K. Now, I know that for a lot of people that would be a very good reason to take their business elsewhere. Fair enough, but I'm enough of an Anglophile that I like my fish and chips authentic.
Tonight, however, I found out more than I really wanted/needed to know about the M&P's fish and chips. I learned that the fish (cod) is frozen but that they bread it there at the pub. I don't suppose that I really believed that I was getting ocean-fresh fish for $8.95, but it's pleasant to harbor that delusion. Also, cod. Let's hope it is Pacific cod and not the overfished Atlantic cod. I already feel guilty enough!
When the fish and chips arrived, it looked "different." The fish was weirdly smooth and cylindrical like an extra-long corn dog minus the stick. The portion of chips seemed drastically reduced from what it had been in the past. Fearing that what was sitting on my plate was little more than a glorified fish stick, I dug in anyway. Everything was fine--same as always, that is, extremely delicious, in a non-haute cuisine sort of way, of course.
posted by Rozanne at 11:15 PM
4 Comments:
Mmmmmm, fish and chips.
*drool*
Meant to say, re: your reverse hostessing...the same thing happens with our work-related potluck dinners. I've heard people express sympathy for the sound guy who hosts them because he always buys $20+ worth of ribs to barbecue. But at the end of the night, he's left with a week's worth of food (everything from pies to gumbo to seven-layer dip). I say it's a good deal.
Good stuff, fish and chips!! Platter..should be in a paper..
It's been too many years but think that is the way I had them in the UK.
No luck finding them in the midwest that I know of.
Sharon
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Sharon,
You are so right. Fish and chips should definitely be served in newspaper! F&C is a bit hard to come by in the Midwest. Brew pubs and English or Scottish style pubs are about the only places I could find fish and in Chicago.
Jamie,
Oddly, whenever I have an "official" potluck, i.e., something I bill as a potluck, the guests always take the remains home with them. Not sure why. Maybe because they don't want to chance losing precious their precious Tupperwares?
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