Eddie’s food annoyances: those countries where they chuck everything into the deep fryer
Adeline (nickname: Eddie) loves food—lots of it and often—and enjoys eating both at home and out. Usually, that goes well, but sometimes it doesn’t. In the series Eddie’s food annoyances , you can read about the latter. This time: those countries where they chuck everything into the deep fryer.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of brown comfort fat. A sizzling cheese soufflé fresh from the fryer gets a solid 8 from me after a night out. Just like one of those bloody hot flaming snacks on a terrace. I love it. I simply don’t understand the uncontrollable urge to chuck absolutely everything into the deep fryer.
Everything in the fat
So a few weeks ago, I crossed that enormous Atlantic Ocean for the first time. Upon arriving on the continent in question, I was almost enveloped by the aroma of a deep fryer. On every street corner, fat was bubbling away in a pan. It didn’t matter what food group you belonged to—from breakfast to drinks, everything went, in a graceful arc, into the deep fryer.
No red flags
But at last, I would finally eat a local dish. I was sitting beside an idyllic lake, about the size of our North Sea, looking out over the water from the terrace, when someone told me that you had to eat fish here. As obedient as I am, I ordered a portion of local fish from the friendly, smiling waitress. It was a very good choice, she thought. And would I like potatoes or fries with it? I chose French fries and looked forward to fresh fish from the lake while I waited. In keeping with the saying ‘fish should swim’, I asked for a glass of wine, which tasted excellent.
Up to that point, I hadn’t seen any red flags, apart from that enormous litre bottle of ketchup on the table.
Deep-fried to oblivion
With a flourish, the waitress placed the plate in front of me. My breath caught in my throat for a moment, because the oh-so-delicious local fish looked like something between a gigantic pile of battered fish pieces and a fried fish fillet. Everything on the plate had been deep-fried to oblivion. The only thing that still looked somewhat like itself was the coleslaw, drenched in dressing—but you got so little of it that it contained no nutritional value whatsoever.
Nothing remained of that once-delicious little fish except a crispy crust and the juice of the fryer. The fries were not French in the slightest, but—yes—had been fried for an exceedingly long time and gleamed up at me from the plate.
A chip in the window frame
Suddenly I understand why everyone there has the uncontrollable urge to spend at least a month in Europe. Where dressing doesn’t come from a bottle, fish is fried with the skin on, and the apple pie served with coffee has never been anywhere near deep-frying fat. Since I’ve been home, I’ve been eating soup and salad, if only to get rid of that last bit of fryer fat rising from my pores.
Although I did thoroughly enjoy the chip in the window frame on King’s Day—that’s just the kind of person I am.
Read also:
- Eddie’s food annoyances: that layer of water at the bottom of the fridge
- Eddie’s food annoyances: the supermarket sampling test
- These are the 7 gross sins that a great many people are guilty of
