Out and about in Launceston, Tasmania, where I grew up, one day this week we stopped at a food hall kind of place called Morty’s where we knew we could get fish and chips – pictured above. The lightly battered fish you see there was Tasmanian flathead, one of those flavours that triggers ancient memories.
A sandy bottom dweller, flathead was the most common fish caught in boats that set out from our holiday place, Greens Beach, on the central north coast, next bay westwards from the mouth of the Tamar River at Kelso. Freshly caught flattie, floured and cooked on a frypan in a little butter, served with toast, lemon, S&P to taste plus tea, is a divine breakfast. I often fished with Dad from crack of dawn for a couple of hours and then we’d bring home and prepare the fish for breakfast. On a great day there’d be enough for lunch with salad or something.
But fish’n’chips was something entirely different.
It took 3-4 hours to get from Launceston to Greens Beach in the 50s. The 40 miles included 12 of unsealed road from Beaconsfield, (Beaky) the last 3 of which were sand track. The packing up and loading the car took several hours before that, so by the time we got to Beaky everyone was getting tired and we needed a major stop. The Ophir fish shop was next to a hotel of the same name. Neither are there any more. Fish and chips for everyone were ordered and while we waited everyone went to the loo in the pub. The orders were a piece of ‘flake’ and a serve of chips individually wrapped for each person. A generous amount of salt was routinely sprinkled as the food was wrapped in grease proof paper then clean newspaper. In the late 60s it became mandatory to use plain non-printed paper – on public health grounds I suppose, but the flavour was never quite the same….
‘Flake’ is delicious and is really shark, though in my memory never went by that name and according to a friend and a rellie or two, that still holds.
Anyway once back on the road to Greens Beach, we were tantalised by the smell of those parcels we weren’t allowed to open. The car had to be completely unpacked before we were allowed to hoe into them…. a powerful motivation to get us to unload the car lickety split – Mum and Dad weren’t stupid!
And in those days crumpets were round and seasonal… but brekky this am was lovely, anyway, thanks to good butter and property manager Helen’s home made apricot jam.