
Chef Joost
Gebakken Schol
A whole North Sea plaice, dusted with flour and fried in butter, is the Dutch weeknight fish at its plainest and best: crisp skin, sweet flesh, potatoes waiting.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Kibbeling is the fishmonger's proof that thrift can taste generous: cod cheeks and trimmings, battered golden, passed across the counter with a sharp sauce that wakes every bite.
On wet afternoons in Yerseke, there was always a line at the fish stall before anyone admitted they were hungry. The paper cone came hot into your hands, salt clinging to your fingers, each piece of fish hidden under a rough golden coat. Kibbeling is not the grand fish of the quay; it is the clever one, born from what was left when the expensive fillets had already found their buyers.
But let me tell you a secret. The name points back to cod cheeks, kabeljauwwangen, the small sweet morsels cut from the head, once too humble for the fine counter and too good for the bin. Harbour language does not always leave tidy Latin footprints, for obvious reasons, but Dutch dictionaries still tie kibbeling to those cheeks and to the old fishmonger habit of making thrift edible at once.
Then comes ravigotesaus, wearing a French coat over a very Dutch shirt. Ravigoter means to revive, and the sauce does exactly that: capers, augurk, mustard, green herbs, enough sourness to pull the fried fish awake. Keep the batter cold, the fish dry, and the oil steady. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple: the shell should be thin and crisp, the cod should flake in clean white leaves, and the sauce should make you reach for the next piece before you've finished explaining the first.
Kibbeling developed at Dutch fish stalls as a way to sell cod cheeks and other small offcuts, especially in ports tied to the North Sea cod trade, before it became a nationwide snack in twentieth-century market culture. Dutch etymological sources connect kibbeling with kabeljauwwangen, cod cheeks, a reminder that the dish began as poor men's fish rather than neat fillet portions. Ravigotesaus comes through French kitchen vocabulary, from ravigoter, to revive, but in the Netherlands it settled into a fish-counter sauce of mayonnaise, pickles, capers, and herbs, sharp enough to balance fried cod.
Quantity
600g
cut into 3cm chunks
Quantity
1 teaspoon
divided
Quantity
50g
Quantity
120g
Quantity
40g
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
200ml
Quantity
1.5 liters
sunflower or rapeseed
Quantity
150g
Quantity
75g
Quantity
2 tablespoons
finely chopped
Quantity
1 tablespoon
rinsed and chopped
Quantity
1 small
very finely minced
Quantity
1 tablespoon
chopped
Quantity
1 tablespoon
chopped
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
as needed
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| skinless cod filletcut into 3cm chunks | 600g |
| fine sea saltdivided | 1 teaspoon |
| plain flour for dusting | 50g |
| plain flour for batter | 120g |
| cornflour or potato starch | 40g |
| baking powder | 1 teaspoon |
| ground white pepper | 1/2 teaspoon |
| mild paprika | 1/2 teaspoon |
| ice-cold sparkling water or Dutch pilsner | 200ml |
| neutral frying oilsunflower or rapeseed | 1.5 liters |
| mayonnaise | 150g |
| creme fraiche or thick yogurt | 75g |
| augurkenfinely chopped | 2 tablespoons |
| capersrinsed and chopped | 1 tablespoon |
| shallotvery finely minced | 1 small |
| flat-leaf parsleychopped | 1 tablespoon |
| chiveschopped | 1 tablespoon |
| Dijon mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| pickle brine or white wine vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| lemon juice | 1 teaspoon |
| freshly ground black pepper | to taste |
| lemon wedges (optional) | as needed |
Stir the mayonnaise, creme fraiche, augurken, capers, shallot, parsley, chives, mustard, pickle brine, lemon juice, and a little black pepper together in a bowl. Taste before adding salt; capers and pickles have already done half the work. Let the sauce sit while you fry the fish, because a ravigote that has rested for twenty minutes tastes like a sauce rather than a meeting of chopped things.
Pat the cod very dry with kitchen paper, then season it with half the salt. Put the 50g flour in a shallow bowl and toss the fish pieces lightly through it, shaking off every excess clump. This dry coat is the little handshake between fish and batter; skip it and the batter may slip off in the oil.
Pour the oil into a heavy pot and heat it to 180C. While it heats, whisk the 120g flour, cornflour, baking powder, remaining salt, white pepper, and paprika together. Pour in the ice-cold sparkling water or pilsner and stir only until no dry pockets remain. A few small lumps are welcome. A batter beaten smooth becomes tough, which is very clever work for a worse result.
Dip a handful of floured fish pieces into the batter, let the extra drip back into the bowl, and lower them carefully into the oil. Fry in small batches for 3 to 4 minutes, turning once, until the coating is deep golden and the fish flakes cleanly inside. Keep the oil near 180C; crowded oil cools, and cool oil makes heavy kibbeling. The fish is done when the centre reaches 63C or flakes opaque under a fork.
Lift the kibbeling onto a wire rack set over a tray, not straight onto paper, so the underside stays crisp. Salt lightly while it is still glossy from the oil. Serve at once with the ravigotesaus and lemon wedges if you like. This is fish-stall food, so the proper table manners are simple: take a piece, drag it through the sauce, and do not wait too long.
1 serving (about 280g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Joost
A whole North Sea plaice, dusted with flour and fried in butter, is the Dutch weeknight fish at its plainest and best: crisp skin, sweet flesh, potatoes waiting.

Chef Joost
Golden smoked eel on buttered bread, the old feast food of Holland's wet country, where rivers, peat ditches, and the former Zuiderzee once set the table.

Chef Joost
The Dutch fishmonger's mackerel is not boiled in silence but cooked in smoke, rich, oily, and honest, the kind of fish you eat on bread before lunch becomes complicated.

Chef Joost
The smallest shrimp on the Dutch table carries the largest bit of coast: sweet North Sea grey shrimp, cooked at sea, peeled by hand, and served without fuss.