Food Contradictions

Everyone has a food contradiction or two — like the vegetarian who lapses at the smell of a frying pan full of sizzling streaky bacon, or the health nut who hides Custard Creams in the fridge. Then you have the man — he could be me — who does not like fish.

The Cod Exception

“I can’t stand fish,” said the man, tucking into his portion of crispy fried cod, its batter as crisp as a freshly baked baguette and brittle — well, as well as Brittle. The flaky batter is the perfect companion to the sweet, succulent flesh that, in his opinion, tastes of cod rather than fish — for he does not like fish.

Anchovy Obsession

“I hate fish,” said the man, hurrying around the City in search of one of his favourite salad must-haves, scurrying from store to store in his quest for the distinctive flat tins. In salads, they are as vital as tomatoes or olive oil, and form the backbone of that secret something in his curries. Who’d have guessed that just a few of these would put the umm in umami — and in so much cooking? If he had his way, all shops would be required by law to sell anchovies. Odd, because he hates fish.

Freezer Favourites

“Fish? No, I don’t like them,” says the man, head deep in the freezer, ears burning from the frosty air as he roots around in search of frozen fillets. The same man who eyes tinned versions with the precision of a sommelier, scanning the shelves for his favourite brand. The jars are so expensive they’re saved for treats — the special salad days with his special salade niçoise. He loves tuna as much as he detests fish.

The Seduction Supper

“Fish, nah, not for me,” says the man, whose eyes roll back as he remembers the seduction feast he cooked for his partner all those decades ago. Fried in black butter with a good dose of capers — a classic. It must have worked, for she is still here. He smiles, too, as he recalls the deep-fried fillets of joy, a Friday night treat from his dad’s favourite Bideford chippy, in the days when such a thing was affordable. Skate — it’s not really fish, is it? I detest fish.

The Asian Market Adventure

“Fish, yuck, horrible stuff,” says the man, eyes out on stalks as he surveys the aisles of amazing goodies. Like a kid in a sweetshop, he grabs, feels, and reads. The Asian trade superstore is one of those wonderful places, and he walks with as much reverence as if he were in some cathedral, sensations in overload and lost in awe. Where is the fish sauce? Fish? There’s no fish in it, is there? Like hedgehog-flavour crisps — no hedgehogs. Right? For he does not like fish. Or the idea of hedgehogs as a delicacy.

The MasterChef Memory

Fish — a shiver runs down his spine as he recalls the horror of losing out on fame, kicked off his episode of MasterChef. He’d done pan-seared scallops with chipotle and maple syrup in the first series. This time, he’d roll out the boat: lemon sole in burnt orange oil. How could he fail? Yet he recoils at the memory of Gregg Wallace’s scorn. What did he know? I hate fish!

The Fish Fingers Feast

“Fish, I can’t stand the stuff,” says the chap sitting in the works canteen on a shoot, where they offered lunch on-site as time was running short. Once he sees the menu, he’s not disappointed. At his table, he tucks into his feast of fish fingers, chips, and beans — and is a child again. One who hates fish.