BURY MY HEART AT WALMERSLEY CHIPPY
Let’s get this out of the way. This is my first attempt at posting a video to the blog. Fellini it aint, but give me a break. OK?
My girlfriend has relatives who own a chippy and yours does not. Nah, Nah, Nah Nah and, indeed, Nah.
The fact they also own a small chain of Kebab shops is an added, unexpected but altogether welcome bonus.
After a bit of a lay in on Saturday morning we pottered the short walk from our vile hotel to the rightfully famous Bury Market. Officially the best market in the UK plentiful signage was keen to point out. In truth, it is just a lot of stalls selling tat. However, amongst the bric a brac are some real gems selling local food.
The Eccles Cake is, thanks to Fergus Henderson, well known in that there London. But, not so, the Chorley cake. Well, Thanks to Harry Muffin, purveyor of fine sweet comestibles to northern folk, I can now announce to the world that they are a lot better than Eccles cakes. So there.
After a bit of nibblage on those, we stopped for a bacon and sausage muffin (in Bury, apparently, a bread roll is a muffin. Go figure) which seemed to be the lightest option on offer at a market café where most people seemed to be tucking into full English fry up’s on plates the size of steering wheels.
All this and passing by once more by the stall of the good people of The Bury Black Pudding Company made us a bit peckish so we wandered the mile or so to The Walmersley Chippy, the latest cog in the growing empire of Dawn’s relatives Mehrdad and Denise. Open a mere six weeks and already experiencing a very steady stream of business, The Chippy is one of those places that makes you despair of ever getting good Fish & Chips in London or at least anything that comes within a north country mile of what we had here.
Fresh fish, cooked to order, was thick with bubbly crunchy batter while the haddock (always haddock up North, of course ) was protected inside to steam gently to a gorgeous flake. Chips were proper chip shop chips and only benefited from a liberal dousing with vinegar. As good as it gets.
Well that is of course, unless you get to go backstage and see it all being done, which I did. As I mentioned, I have a GF who put me on the guest list for the VIP room or at least the room where they cut the chips.
Pretty full up by now obviously, but not too full to pop next door but one and try a few slices of a fresh kebab crisped up on the grill topped with their homemade chilli sauce. It’s a good life.
A long walk home failed to burn off all the grub we had ingested and we made the mistake of going to use the Hotel gym which resulted in us both turning a most unusual shade of green and having to lie down for a while.
But, man it was worth it for those Fish & Chips.
Did I say Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah, Nah? If not, just take it as a given. OK?
Labels: Fish and Chips