Next Stop... Great Britain!

I seem to remember pontificating in the last post about avoiding stereotypes when selecting our token meal from each country. After all, I had eschewed borscht when preparing Russian cuisine, right? Well, here is where I will have to admit that the aforementioned moral high ground had little to do with cliche-avoidance, and everything to do with taste. Case in point... British food. I pretty much couldn't get more cliche than my dinner selection of... fish n' chips. I had something more grandiose in mind, and was waffling between bangers and mash and something with Yorkshire Pudding when reality set in. I had gone to the grocery store without having written down any ingredients for the big dinner. Sigh. As time was not on my side, fish n' chips won the day.

Of course, there were a number of advantages to this menu: (a) kids would eat it (b) it needs no recipe (c) it doesn't seem too difficult (read: how hard can it be?) and (d) I would finally get to bust out the mandoline that Mom had gotten me last Christmas. I remember walking by the frozen french fries and wondering if I was going to later regret not purchasing any as a backup. But the lure of trying out a new kitchen toy was strong, so I came home with only 1.5 lbs. of cod and 4 gigantic baking potatoes.

The fish portion of the combo came out very nicely. The chips... well, they didn't exactly look quite so professional. The mandoline was a little trickier than the box made the process out to be (imagine that), and I was somehow shredding my potato instead of making thick julienne slices. Switching the blade plate 4 different times transformed the tuber into 4 various geometric oddities. Now, frustration set in. Fortunately (this time) it also brought along its better half: good sense. You see, knives and I aren't always the best of friends on a normal day, so an untested instrument with numerous sharp surfaces in the hands of a Mama on the move is probably a bad combination...(especially considering the fact that I had also neglected to buy a roll of gauze bandages to re-affix any potential severed digits.

Though the fries were humble little hand-cut wedges, the overall effect was still a good one. Here was my first attempt at a plate of fish n' chips:

I failed to get any malt vinegar at the store to accompany our feast, but truthfully, I would have been the only one using it. My kindergartener took her fish for a swim in a sea of ketchup, along with a few of her English peas. The 3rd grader enjoyed them plain and pronounced the dinner delicious. Happy to have conquered another country in my kitchen, I returned to the mandoline and attempted to clean the blades (!) without injury. I was successful in this regard, but haven't yet worked up the courage to repack it into the box. Maybe it can stay on the counter until we get to France, where I can julienne some unsuspecting vegetable more successfully...