We spent the weekend with friends on the coast and, after an introductory lesson in sailing (“never again,” moaned our five-year-olds), decided to reward the poor, shivering creatures with fish and chips.
It’s a favourite with the kids and one less meal to cook for the adults. I dutifully walked up a hill from the beach to the nearest fish and chip shop and ordered three meals of haddock and chips.
That’s enough for six little tots and I was happy to carry a round of food. Selfishly, I thought, it would be less damaging to the wallet than the next round of drinks at the pub.
But I was out of luck. The bill was well over £30. What? I stammered to myself. I know it’s been a while since I last bought fish and chips, but I’ve always considered it one of the cheaper fast food options. I would have been much better off paying for the pints and the pork cracklings.
In fact, the price of a portion of fish and chips has risen by more than 50 percent in the last five years, as recently published figures show. In July 2019, it was £6.48. This July, it was £9.88.
Reasons cited for rising costs include high energy bills (deep fryers are particularly power-intensive appliances), tariffs on Russian seafood imports and poor potato harvests due to extreme weather conditions.
Fish and chips – especially the simple variety with haddock or cod – is officially no longer a cheap meal. But don’t worry. There are other ways to enjoy the bounty of the sea, if only we could open our hearts (and mouths) to them.
We may be an island nation, but the facts prove that we are nothing short of logistically insane when it comes to our seafood eating habits. Most of the seafood we eat is imported (and we ship 750,000 tons of frozen chips annually).
In 2022, we imported £3.6 billion worth of seafood, up 16 percent on the previous year. By value, we imported £783 million worth of salmon, £564 million worth of cod and £234 million worth of haddock, among other fish and seafood.
Therefore, it is no wonder that the price of the fish we eat depends on the vagaries of foreign wars and the weather.
And then look at some of the seafood we actually export: £107 million worth of mackerel, £90 million worth of scallops and £77 million worth of crab.
I remember being in the port of Mainland in the Orkney Islands and discovering crates of spider crabs. I asked where I could buy some of the catch, which can be a fine delicacy. “Germany,” came the reply. I still feel sad when I think about it.
Wouldn’t it be culturally enriching if we ate what came from our own seas? At least it would be better for our bank accounts.
But we Brits are a stubborn bunch. Our food culture has undergone a revolution in recent decades, but like the Labour Party’s victory, it is less profound than broad.
I know this from personal experience, as I try to convince people (figuratively speaking) to choose between snails, venison and partridge instead of the ubiquitous pork, beef, lamb or chicken.
So let’s shock Brits with this price hike and get them to make new and exciting choices for homegrown food. Herring, which is available in huge quantities in the UK, is nothing short of a delicacy. I love the salty texture of mackerel, I would queue naked in the rain for crab, and yes, if the cod is too expensive for us and the kids: let them eat scallops.
