FRITUUR
Chips are welcome wherever you are
I escape the frozen street into, Het Tip Zak,
greeted by the smell of frying lard and laughter
wrapped in humid heat.
I join the ragged queue surveying
raw and processed meats
displayed under spotless fridged glass.
My turn is noted. Recognition–
a look over his glasses, unsmiling
but not unfriendly. I ask, a kleintje en a saté.
As he collects the skewered meat
ready for the boiling fat, I beg a flesje.
He hands me an opened bottle and offers
an open palm. I pay and take my place
against the wall to neck my prize, alongside
chatty waiting clients. I watch the heap
of par-fried chips reduce as another delicious
greasy gaggle is plunged into scalding fat
to fulfil awaiting orders.
She, Mevrouw, packs my frits, tossed free of fat
and points at the row of sauce dispensers.
I decline mayonnaise, andalouse, and curry
opting just for salt. My deep fried saté, sitting
in a cardboard coffin joins chips inside a paper tent
ready for the perforated carry-home bag.
Leaving with my score I head out into
cold sodium yellow with warm comfort
in my hand and walk home reflecting
how close this is to the chippies I left behind.
Just as warming and welcoming
except they sell beer instead of Cod.
This takes me back to a small chippie in Fulham. On the way back from John Lloyd’s I’d stop to get cod and chips. The owner was Armenian and he fried the fish on coconut oil; there was no grease, just the soft taste of the fish, and the chips salted and vinegar lathered restored whatever energy I had lost while pretending to push myself in the gym! The best in London.
It’s a long time since I left London (or rather it’s suburbs).I can’t remember where the local chippie was. I do remember the cod was great and I think they also did Plaice, Haddock and Rock Salmon (a sort of small shark). Such varieties of fish on offer seems rare these days as far as I can see.
Thanks for reading this 🙂
Strong vivid descriptions had me hooked.
The chippies are now pushing plaice and haddock instead of cod – declining numbers – but nothing beats the warm filling taste, and I am a potato fan, sliced, diced, boiled, fried…..
Another good work – incidentally FYI Rock Salmon is the posh name for dog fish 🙂
Ahh yeah! I was trying to remember what they called it. My grandmother wouldn’t touch it. She said it was only fit to give to cats. I didn’t mind it ‘cos you can eat the bones. 🙂