At the end of a five-day sweaty slog on the keyboard, there’s nothing better than heading into the centre of Stornoway and seeking out the narrow cobbled streets which are oases of calm in which the dust of the working week can be washed away and the cares of tomorrow must wait until… well, you know the rest.
The Point Street precinct is not actually cobbled but block-paved. Not so romantic, block paving. But it is a traffic-restricted highway to happiness where you can quit counting calories, quash your inhibitions and quench your thirst for flavour – with vinegar and a little salt as it has two chippys.
Yep, fish and chips on a Friday evening is a thing for a lot of people in Britain today. Fish Friday is not just a religious thing either. Sometimes on a Saturday too we become pescatarian and tattietarian if Mrs X has too much dry, dull salad left over from Thursday or if I have been working out of town. We mustn’t miss out. A chippy once a week is pretty much the saliva-inducing treat of all time – unless you hate fish, you weirdo.
Now the bad news. No, not Ms Truss going to Balmoral yesterday to accept a new job offer. This cost of living palaver means the price of our weekly haddie and chips could shoot up by at least £1.50 or even as much as £2.50, if some commentators are to be believed. Imagine that. Eleven quid for a supper. There was a day you could fill your petrol tank for that. Heck, that price hike even for hake would hack me off.
Deep-fried delicacy gives nutritionists nightmares
A black pudding supper is also great and it’s easier on the wallet. Banger and chips is banging good value too but I think I would draw the line at a deep-fried Mars bar with chipped spuds. I mention it because I’ve never had one. I feel I should’ve had because I was recently watching a Youtube video where American youngsters narrated a visit to Scotland a few weeks ago.
They reached Edinburgh and in a cafe for breakfast tried all the Scottish “favourites”, like black pudding. Their verdict was that it tasted of bread. Look here, that was not the real McCoy. That wasn’t Stornoway Black Pudding. Never has anyone compared that warm dark, deep spiciness to bread. Maybe the lads from the streets of Baltimore had really poor haggis. That too was on their plate. Yeah, they probably had that then.
Then they had the deep-fried delicacy that gives nutritionists nightmares. A Mars bar, liberally battered and fried for a few minutes. Yuck and double yuck. Guess what? The Americans loved it. These darned Yanks, they come over here and eat our deep-fried Mars bars – and they love them. What’s that all about? OK, I must steel myself and try one.
My upcoming trip to Edinburgh has been postponed so I must revisit Stonehaven where all this Mars bar mayhem began. Well, depends on which version of its story you actually believe. Although other chippys claim precedence, I think it was in the mid-1990s that Stonehaven’s Haven Chip Bar, now the Carron Fish Bar, began promoting it. People rushed to buy it, probably just once. It is part of Scottish history. Like so much of our history, you don’t have to like it.
A shellfish treat
The late Keith Chegwin began scoffing them on The Big Breakfast and then it crossed the Atlantic with late-night TV hosts rabbiting on about them. Like scooping a jobby in a crunchy sleeve out of a sizzling fryer, it was claimed to have a diet-busting 1,200 calories. That was utter rubbish. It has a mere 306. Have it with lettuce and tomatoes and you are still within your recommended lunch allowance.
Message to Maureen in Inverness. I recently mentioned a certain chocolate bar and you sent me one and a can of Irn Bru to wash it down. Please don’t now send me a Mars bar, some flour and a bottle of vegetable oil. I love you, Mo, but please don’t.
One thing we don’t get in our chippys is vegetarian sausages. Yet they have improved a lot. The early brand with a Q in the name was one I quickly and quietly questioned qualitywise so it doesn’t qualify to be quoted. It was supposedly quite healthy but made me queasy.
You know what I love? Scampi In A Basket which was popular in the 1970s and 1980s. So I asked our local chippy owner if he could get it. When I went down the following Friday, he said he couldn’t serve me the scampi. But why? He said: “I got prawns but they’re past their shell-by date.”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
Conversation