French Fries
A chip off the old potato
Like Agatha Christie’s Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, fries have long been misidentified as French. At least, that’s the position of the Belgians who claim the deep-fried strips of potatoes as their own. Their argument rests on a story that dates from the late 17th century when the Meuse River that flows through the city of Namur froze, which put a damper on fishing. Deprived of their traditional fish-fry, the hungry citizenry reached instead for the potato. Food historians take this story with a grain of salt, though, pointing out that potatoes weren’t grown in the region until about 100 years later. Moreover, fat was expensive at the time, especially the animal fat traditionally used to fry potatoes. Fat was reserved for the wealthy or used sparingly as a spread on bread, and so wouldn’t have been used frivolously to fry up some potatoes.
But these arguments haven’t stopped the Belgians from pursuing recognition for their frites as UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage. Their case is bolstered by the first reference of the deep-fried potato in a Belgian tome written by Louisa Mathieu and published in the early 20th century, translated as Treatise on Domestic Economy and Hygiene. The book’s recipe for fried potatoes specifies cutting the potatoes into sticks rather than in the sliced rounds of earlier recipes—and frying them twice, a departure from previous techniques that is consistent with the method used for modern fries. Belgians also lay blame for the French fries’ misnomer at the boots of American soldiers who encountered the fried potatoes while stationed in the French-speaking Belgian region of Wallonia during WW I. Thinking they were in France, the soldiers described the fries as French.
Unfortunately for the Belgians, the name “French fries” stuck. Er, except for the Brits. Charles Dickens is credited as the first to call the deep-fried potato a “chip”—at least in print. In A Tale of Two Cities, the author refers to “husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant drops of oil”. A year after his novel was published, the first fish-and-chip shop opened in London in 1860, and a few years later, another popped up in Lancaster. Among chip shop lore, we find Alfred Hitchcock, whose family ran a chip shop in the early 20th century at 130 Salmon Lane in the Limehouse area of London. (Oh dear, I’m imagining a chubby baby Hitch making a cameo appearance in his parents’ shop, sitting in a corner and munching away at a plateful of chips.)
Since those early days, the chip shop or “chippie” as it began to be called in the Swinging ’60s, has become a takeaway hotspot not only in Britain, but in many parts of what was once known as “The Commonwealth”. Here in Canada, getting fish and chips for dinner was a Friday treat at our house. I’m old enough to remember when an order of “two and one” would get you two fish and one of chips, the meal tightly wrapped in newspaper to keep it piping hot on the drive home. I can still smell the aromas of the fish and chips as they mingled with the ink of the newspaper—I swear the newspaper made them taste better than the dinner I now pick up from my favourite fish-and-chip shop where they package orders in more sanitary Styrofoam containers. Nostalgia aside, nothing can beat stopping at a roadside “chip truck” for fresh-cut fries piled high into a paper box—only in Canada, you say?
Oh, and then there’s poutine, another iconic Canadian fried potato dish. A heart-stopping combination of fresh-cut fries, cheese curds and gravy, poutine has roots in the Francophone province of Quebec. In fact, it’s been called “Quebec in a bowl”. It first appeared back in the 1950s in snack bars in the rural towns of Central Quebec where cheese curds from local fromageries were readily available. With fries covered in curds and drowned in gravy, the irresistible meal is one hot mess, which probably led to its name: in Quebecois slang, “poutine” literally means “mess”.
Along with chip trucks and poutine, Canada also holds bragging rights as the worldwide leading producer of frozen French fries. In the New Brunswick town of Florenceville, touted as the French Fry Capital of the World, you’ll find McCain Foods. It’s estimated that one in four frozen French fries eaten globally is a McCain fry, and since 1977, the company has partnered with McDonald’s to provide its iconic MacFries. So, maybe it’s time to end the Belgian/French debate and just call them Canuck fries. 🍁
Whichever way you slice it, here’s more about French fries.
Second Helpings
The Small Canadian Town Known As The 'French Fry Capital Of The World'
Loving these in-depth looks into iconic foods. Just enough to whet the appetite!