Takeaway christmas themed chip or christmas chip supplied from a takeaway in Belfast . Alamy Stock Photo
SeriesChristmas
All I want for Christmas is a roast dinner on my chips, Northern Ireland’s traditional chippy fare. A bit like the spice bag, only more seasonal.
Patrick Hanlon
MID-WAY THROUGH OCTOBER… Halloween just ’round the corner, still too balmy for a hat and scarf, but we’re officially in the most wonderful time of the year… the Christmas chip is back in chippers right now up north.
I’m ashamed to admit I’ve not yet had the pleasure, but long lusted after it, seduced by its belly-filling allure. I’m putting it to the people right now: WHEN are we getting this wondrous monstrosity down south? My suggestion is: quicker than immediately.
“It’s your turkey, your ham, your stuffing, your cocktail sausages, on your chips with gravy; cranberry sauce, if you wish, but the majority don’t,” we’ve probably all heard the unmistakable lilt of Seaneen Clarke Selby, owner of Selby’s chip shop on The Falls Road, at this stage.
For the last three years, their take on Christmas dinner — “all in one, on your bed of chips” — has gone routinely viral, with unprecedented demand more recently forcing the seasonal special to be brought forward, arriving on the menu from 1 October, rather than, traditionally, once Halloween has passed.
CMAT even commented under one viral clip of Selby’s festive fancy: “Xmas chip would heal me”. And so say all of us.
After years of the spice bag being a solely southern thing, it eventually migrated north — then around the world, from Vancouver to Melbourne — so it’s only fitting, then, that their iconic chip shop special should find its way south of the border in a fair cultural exchange.
Who needs a spice bag?
How have we survived so long without the herb and onion hit of stuffing sprinkled atop our fat, golden, hand-cut chips? How can we all worship the pub carvery but never have thought to marry its spoils to the chipper down the street? Serving the two, happily ever after, in a single polystyrene box, the lot drowned in glossy mahogany gravy.
In fact, if you think about it, Ireland really does have a love affair with loaded fries. The Christmas chip is a quadratic equation; chips + garlic sauce + grated cheddar is simple arithmetic. We have all face-planted garlic cheesy chips at the end of a night out when stringy, congealed stodge with a ferocious garlic bite will only do. Or worse, woken up next to a half-eaten one.
Ditto, chips slathered in curry sauce, eventually turning the whole lot to sloppy mush, but we love it. Some add grated cheese, if they wish. Glory be the sauce, though, each purveyor a different flavour, most from a packet but every so often a noticeably homemade iteration. Curry sometimes spicier than sweet, at times fruity, other times tangy, running the gamut in density from dishwasher thin to cement thick.
Taco fries, made famous by Abrakebabra and later a Supermacs staple, arguably paved the way for the spice bag, proving that the Irish palate could handle a bit of heat beyond white pepper and wasn’t all boiled cabbage, lamb chops and steamed spuds. Taco sauce, a deli counter staple and nigh on essential in a chicken fillet roll, probably owes much of its fanfare to the cultural cornerstone of Irish cuisine that is taco fries.
Another inspired, spice-adorned take on topped chips is Chimac’s signature poutine, twice-fried, hand-cut chips dusted in a tingling and aromatic Szechuan spice blend, smothered in peppery Adobo gravy with sriracha candied bacon and a final drizzle of ssamjang cheese sauce. You haven’t lived until it’s crossed your lips.
The humble, mighty, beloved chip truly is the perfect vehicle, in many ways superior to the baked spud. Chips as a base is already great, but add on various toppings, and you’re elevating it to a higher power.
Chips as a vehicle is popping up across the country: Chipeen in Galway, Prátaí in Cork, Street Frites in Dublin and now Smaak Friet, a Dutch-inspired friterie, soon to arrive in the former Rei Momo pitch on Drury Street.
There is no limit to what a pile of chips can carry. We’ve dusted them in spices, drowned in curry sauce, submerged in a swamp of coagulated cheese and garlic, topped like a taco; we’re adept at loading stuff onto chips in Ireland. The full roast dinner atop feels like the natural progression towards chip shop final boss.
Stuff your pumpkin spice lattes and festive sandwiches. My Empire for a Christmas chip!
Patrick Hanlon is an Irish food, travel and culture journalist, and is one half of the award-winning duo GastroGays. He is the author of a new food column, The Feeder’s Digest at TheJournal.ie. More on Instagram.