The Best EVER Chippy Chips

A few years ago, at the start of the Ukraine war, when the price of vegetable oil and electricity went through the roof, the culinary world of the North of England quaked with fear. Community social media groups lit up, cosy weekend-in marital conversations soured, and parents mournfully lamented the tragic possibility that the price of a chippy tea might go up.

By 'Eck! They sobbed down the stoney-cobbled streets, and from behind the doors of back-to-back terraces, Putin is stealing our chips!

For this, among other significantly greater atrocities, Russia became the devil incarnate on everybody's lips, even if their tongues were, at the time, firmly in their cheeks. But hey, that is how Northern British humour rolls. Our faces may look dead-pan serious and our tone sombre, but all the while, we are tingling away inside with the sharp, moreish and malty taste sensation of salt, carbs, and vinegar—a tangy, lip-smacking flavour profile wi' nowt taken out.

God damn! Said my northern brethren, their fists slamming down onto their kitchen tables in mock anger. Putin can threaten the world with his warheads, but by God, he is pushing the wrong darned buttons if he thinks he can take a Northerner's chips!

It was at that moment, as panic climbed tenuously toward fever pitch at the distant and potential threat of local chippy closures, that I saw my moment.

My paternal Nan was brought up in a Manchester pub, a pub that proudly operated through not one but two world wars. There are many family tales of times when bombs literally fell from the sky, turning our great and industrious northern city into a dust bowl of Luftwaffe smoke, and, through it all, my Great Grandma, with her husband off fighting in the trenches, insisted on keeping the doors to her pub open, pulling pints of mild* for whomsoever wanted one to accompany their chippy tea from the chip shop on the corner.

I knew what I had to do.

This was a family rite of passage.

My moment.

My calling.

People, I said to nobody in particular. Do not despair! By the Gods of Manchester's past, present and future, the chippy tea will remain ours! Rest easy, my northern brethren, have that pint of beer and have your chippy tea, for the war of Ukraine may not be over, but our culinary battle is won!

(Look, my Scottish Grandfather served in the Black Watch; if I want to go a bit Braveheart now and again, I feel vicariously licensed.)

I rolled up my sleeves, put on my pinny, got myself a bag of King Edward's finest spuds, and, for the love of God, I chipped.

Here is the recipe, handed down to me by my Nan. I am sharing it with you here and now because Vocal is running a challenge, and I thought I would enter it.

I hope you are ready because I may have been going gung-ho with a few daft laughs up to this point, but I am as serious as a miner on strike in the 1980s when I say:

This is how you make the best-darned chips on the planet.

Make no mistake - when it comes to the making of chips, we Northerners do NOT mess about.

Recipe for a Family of Three:

Take two large King Edward** spuds (potatoes for the colloquially unabridged).

Peel the potatoes, then slice them vertically into one-centimetre-thick slices.

Wash in a colander to rinse the coating of starch that comes after peeling.

Place in a pan of lightly salted water and boil until just tender (approximately 10 minutes from cold to done).

Drain and leave the boiled chips in the colander to dry in their heat.

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT TO AVOID SOGGY CHIPS.

DO NOT CUT CORNERS.

Once completely dry and cold, heat a third-full pan of vegetable oil to sizzle point. You will know it is hot enough when you drop a small piece of potato in, and bubbles form around it.

Carefully add the rest of the chips. I advise one chip at a time. More care makes for better fayre, as somebody's Nan probably once said at some point. Mine didn't because she used an old-fashioned chip pan with a properly purposed mesh net for dunking. But as you don't see many of those in modern kitchens, I am going with how I now flow.

DO NOT LEAVE THE PAN FOR A MOMENT

After around eight minutes, you will have a lightly golden collection of hot-as-hell sizzling chips. How dark you go is up to you, but you can see my preference for colour in the picture. Remember, the darker the colour, the crispier the chip and the deeper the carby umami flavour.

It takes only seconds for the chips to go from rich, amber, crunchy deliciousness to, darn it, burnt them.

DO NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF THAT HOT OIL.

Strain the HOT oil and chips through a metal colander over a metal pan to catch the used oil and separate the chips.

THIS IS VERY DANGEROUS. ONLY DO THIS IF SOBER.

Shake the chips from the colander onto some kitchen roll or a clean towel to soak up any excess grease.

Toss the chips in the salt of your choice and serve immediately with a generous lashing of malt vinegar.

Serve with whatever floats your boat. For me, this is often a soft, fluffy barmcake (bap/bread roll/ batch/ teacake—choose your own regional variation) which I use to make a sandwich with. I slather the bread in proper butter so that when wrapped around the chips, the butter melts onto them, mellowing their crunch ever so slightly while adding a delicious, unctuous mildness to the mouth-tingling tang of hot vinegar and salt.

Yeah, I know. You want these chips now, don't you?

Go on and get yourself a nice cold beer, and while you get organised to make these fluffy, crunchy wonders, here's a close-up to salivate over.

I know, you are so right, Meg Ryan.

Oh, BABY, indeed!

Enjoy!

CJ xx

Notes:

* A pint of mild is an old traditional British pint of beer with a low alcohol content.

** Many people will tell you that any floury potato is good enough to make great chips. Maris Piper is often the variety that is touted as the best chippy spud. I assure you, the King Edward is far superior because it retains all the fluffiness of a floury potato, but it is not prone to disintegration like Maris Pipers are. You may have me pegged as a loony toon with a keyboard, but trust my Nan; she was a culinary whiz regarding chips and very specific about the variety.