Beer-Battered Halibut Fish and Chips

The British invented fish and chips out of necessity. Working-class families needed cheap protein that could stretch across the table, and battered cod fried in beef drippings answered that call. But here in the Pacific Northwest, we have access to something the chippy owners of London could only dream about: halibut. Dense, sweet, flaking into perfect white petals when cooked properly. This fish deserves the same reverence we give to salmon.

The Makah and other coastal tribes have harvested halibut from these cold waters for thousands of years, using hooks carved from yew wood and lines braided from kelp. Scandinavian immigrants who settled here recognized the fish immediately and brought their own traditions. The Asian fishing communities of Seattle and Astoria added theirs. What we have now is a regional cuisine shaped by everyone who worked these waters.

A proper beer batter requires cold ingredients and a light hand. Overwork it and you'll develop gluten, which means tough, chewy coating instead of the shatter you're after. I use a local amber ale for its malty backbone, though any decent beer with some character will serve. The carbonation creates tiny air pockets that expand in hot oil, producing that legendary crunch.

The chips deserve equal attention. Cut them thick, soak them twice, and fry them twice. This double-fry method, borrowed from Belgian tradition, ensures a creamy interior and a crust that stays crisp long enough to make it from plate to mouth. Serve everything on newspaper if you want authenticity, though I won't judge you for using a plate.