The heart of Saturday night in SE15. Yes, that’s my bike.
Getting home from the Portobello Beat exhibition opening circa 8pm on Saturday I was hungry and didn’t fancy chopping/cooking. Instead, I jumped on my bike and off to the local chippy I went.
Corner Fish Bar is a traditional British chippy in every sense - it sells fish and chips and very little else. They list a few pies and burgers, none of which would have been made on the premises, and as I’ve never seen anyone ordering them I wonder if they still store such in the fridge-freezer?
Where some chippies have gone upmarket, offering quite an array of seafood treats, Corner Fish Bar has got ever more minimalist: they used to offer cod or rock or plaice (I prefer rock and would sometimes order plaice for a change) but for a good while - likely since lockdown finished - they’ve offered only cod. Cod’s the cheapest fish (and the most popular with Brits).
The family who run Corner Fish Bar are Chinese but, outside of listing prawn crackers for £1.50, I’ve never known them to offer any Chinese dishes. They only accept payment in cash and make no effort to entertain customers with newspapers/magazines (as once was the case in chippies) or a TV. And they are not on any food app. You want fish & chips? Then come and order it in person.
Corner Fish Bar’s menu. No frills but they certainly know how to cook f&c.
Corner Fish Bar are the only chippy in this stretch of Peckham and Bermondsey. Fifty years ago, in any British working class neighbourhood, there would have been a chippy on almost every street. Today, around here, there are more Chinese takeaways serving the local community than there are fish and chip shops. The chippies have been closing alongside the pubs - the Old Kent Road (which is less than two hundred metres away from Corner Fish Bar) once boasted dozens of pubs along its length, now it has one. Also: newsagents are vanishing. I’m fortunate our local newsagent continues to trade but I’m certain its selling alcohol, crisps, sweets, tinned food etc that ensures its survival.
Obviously, tastes and communities change. Nigerians and then Ghanians make up the largest ethnicity around here today. Alongside lots of Somalians, Algerians, Moroccans - as well as Colombians and Peruvians, alongside Romanians and Poles. Sometimes in nearby Burgess Park these different communities host events where they play their music and wave their flags. I love observing such (and living amongst them). None of these communities have much interest in pubs - or fish & chips
Also, fish & chips have been hit by all manner of price rises - from overfishing pushing cod’s price up to potato prices rising (due to a blight? I’m uncertain) and the cost of energy roaring ahead. I used to get fish & chips at Corner Fish Bar for under £7 a few years ago. Now its £9.80. Which demonstrates how inflation has hammered those on low incomes. Yet, for a hot, tasty dinner, it remains reasonable: f&c are often now £13-15. Or more if you go to an upmarket chippy (where they sell sachets of tartar sauce and add lemon slices - no chance of such at Corner Fish Bar, thankfully). That said, there’s a chippy in Bermondsey that charges £8.50 but, to my mind, Corner serve the superior fish & chips.
F&C wrapped in greaseproof paper. Not flash but very tasty.
London’s first fish & chip shop opened in the early 1860s on 78 Cleveland Way in Bow, east London. It was run by Joseph Malin, a Jewish immigrant, who likely brought the formula to Britain from Portugal. That said, in A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens had already referred to chips being sold in Paris: "Husky chips of potatoes, fried with some reluctant drops of oil". Synchronicity? I imagine so.
I’ve loved fish & chips since early childhood - its part of the Kiwi diet, one of those colonial traditions we’re happy to cling on to. I’ll note that Kiwi fish & chips are the world’s finest (so crisp and tasty - I recall how disappointed I was when I first landed here in 91 with the English version: too greasy!). That said, Corner Fish Bar make a good fist of fish & chips. As long as I’m here and they’re trading I’ll remain a loyal customer for what might be my favourite evening meal.
Once I’d got my portion (“Salt and vinegar?” “Yes ta”) I cycled down to Peckham Rye, a former common (for grazing animals) that is now a rather weary park bordered by busy roads. Here, at 20.30 on the last day of August, the Peckham Free Film Festival (which screens films outdoors across SE15 at the end of summer) were screening Barbie, which I’d missed when it ran in cinemas last year.
I’ve only seen one film at the cinema all summer and that was a documentary (Hollywood Gate) about the Taliban so I was looking forward to a visual sugar rush. The temperature remained summery so I sat on the grass, eating fish & chips and licking my greasy fingers while watching Margot Robie, Ryan Gosling and co’ have a whale of a time playing plastic people.
I don’t think I know anyone whose been to see Barbie - certainly, none of my social circle mentioned it. A few went and saw the competition (Oppenheimer) and either liked or disliked that ponderous epic. I write this having avoided Oppenheimer as I loathe Christopher Nolan films (honestly, I knew it would be ponderous without watching a minute).
Anyway, back to Barbie, which is not ponderous. Instead, its smart and funny, even if very meta: jesting about the Mattel corporation and Margot-the-movie-star in a film that celebrates both (and gets away with it). Greta Gerwig’s film is a hipster fantasy - ironic, chic and woke - while remaining very entertaining. You all saw it a year ago? I never claimed to be some cutting edge culture vulture!
Peckham Rye is where the young William Blake claimed to have seen angels in a tree. Having now seen Margot Robie there (admittedly, on a screen, not in a tree) does this mean I can also claim to have seen an angel on the Rye?
Speaking of women with angelic features, Souad Massi - the Algerian singer-songwriter and activist - is beautiful in every sense. Here she is in concert in Paris around the same time Barbie was released:
I can’t think of any really good songs that celebrate fish & chips. Obviously, the chippy gets mentioned in various songs - most notably the late Kirsty MacColl’s There’s A Guy Works Down The Chip Shop Swears He’s Elvis - but none celebrate the food. Any aspiring singer songwriters out there who want to help me write a folk anthem to the feast that is fish & chips?
Fully enjoyed Barbie, if scarily woke. It hit the right fun-spot at the time. If you go in for camp, it delivers.
Oppenheimer was cringy. Overdone. Could have made a fair point with much less sensationalism. IMO.