The British have a propensity, still, to feel that their kitchen is inferior to the French, but one which no longer holds much credibility.

British cooking and French cooking are simply different, having developed from different traditions. And just as the British have taken many French dishes and made them part of the national repertoire, so too have the French taken many British dishes to their heart.

Sandwich bars spread like wildfire in Paris. Le crumble features on so many French menus that the natives are quite surprised to discover that it is a British invention.

Belgian gastronomic magazines seem to devote a good deal of space to the origin of the chip

I pointed this out not long ago at one of the new, trendy Paris restaurants, where I was served a banana and peanut butter crumble, and was met with utter disbelief.

And now it’s le fish and chips which is all the rage in Paris. One of the best versions, for €28 (sic) a portion is reckoned by my colleagues at Le Figaro to be had at Le Bristol’s brasserie, Le 114 Faubourg.

Less expensive fish and chips are to be found at La Maison Mère in the IXth, €17, cooked by an Irish chef, and also at Le Frog & Rosbif and God Save the Kitchen.

We might think of fish and chips as a British invention, but I was only a little surprised to learn that it was a Belgian who had persuaded us to eat chips with our fried fish.

Cooked food was available from city cookshops throughout Britain from the Middle Ages, but it was the age of the railway which took fish to inland cities at lower prices; and fried fish soon became a favourite fast food of the factory workers of the Industrial Revolution.

The first chips in Britain were sold by a Belgian, Edouard de Gurnier, who opened a stall in the old Green Market in Dundee in 1874; they rapidly caught on as an ideal partner to the crisp, battered, deep-fried fish.

Belgian gastronomic magazines seem to devote a good deal of space to the origin of the chip. Chef Pierre Wynants believed it should not be called the French fry but rather the Belgian fry.

Some claim that the first instructions for frying the chip in two stages came from the Belgian kitchen, although others say the chip was popularised in Belgium by French refugees after 1851, following Louis Napoleon’s coup d’état. The story, which goes back 200 years, is that the poorer inhabitants of Namur and the region used to catch small fish in the Meuse, which they would deep-fry. When the river froze, and cut off their supply of free food, they would cut up potatoes in the shape of the small fish and fry them instead.

Roland Barthes, the philosopher, however, felt that the chip was a gastronomic symbol of Frenchness: “La frite est le signe alimentaire de francité.”

Today’s Frenchmen, however, regard fish and chips as an entirely British institution, reminding them of holidays at language schools in Brighton and Bournemouth.

It’s not something you would want to cook every day, being somewhat labour intensive, but your friends and family will thank you for a delicious treat when you cook them the perfect fish and chips, especially if you accompany it with a nicely chilled bottle of Brut champagne or sparkling wine.

This is one of those perfect food and wine marriages, fish and chips and fizz. One of Anton Mosimann’s specialities for champagne receptions when he first opened his private club in London was miniature newspaper cones of fish and chips.

Like Lorna Wing’s Sunday lunch – a small slice of rare roast beef curled inside a miniature Yorkshire pudding dabbed with horseradish. No posh drinks party was complete without them.

The perfect fried fish

Approximately 200g fillet of white fish for each person
Seasoning
Flour, batter or breadcrumbs – for coating
Oil for frying

Ideally use fresh oil each time and not previously used, as repeated high heat is likely to break down the molecules in the oil and cause it to deteriorate.

Olive oil, sunflower, canola (rapeseed) or groundnut oil can be used in preference to one of the anonymous vegetable oils, which may contain highly saturated palm or coconut oil.

Dry the fish thoroughly, season it and dip into batter if using it, or simply in flour or breadcrumbs if not. With the oil at 175˚C, fry the fish for five to eight minutes. Small but thick fillets will take longer than large, thin ones. Remove and keep in a warm place, on paper towels.

Serve with lemon wedges, tartar sauce, ketchup, and, of course, perfect chips.

Cook’s note: As the chips are cooked in two stages, it is a good idea to cook the fish after the chips have had their first frying.

The perfect chip

The potato

Allow one large potato per person. To achieve a light, fluffy chip, crisp and golden on the outside, choose a firm but floury-textured potato.

When peeled, sliced about one centimetre thick and cut into strips of similar width, it will give good results; a thicker chip like this absorbs less fat than thinly cut chips.

Dry the chips thoroughly in a clean tea towel to avoid the fat spitting as moisture hits it.

The fat

Duck and goose fat, chicken fat and beef dripping all have their afficionados. They are efficient for frying, as they have a high smoke point.

Others prefer not to use animal fats and look to the same variety of oil as used to fry the fish.

The cooking

Cooking the chips in two stages gives more control over the end result. Stage one cooks the potato gently, until barely done. Stage two, at a higher temperature, gives the chips their characteristic golden crispness.

Unless you are cooking no more than a couple of handfuls of chips, do them in batches, to prevent the temperature of the oil falling too much.

Heat the oil or fat in a deep-fryer, or heavy saucepan, to a temperature of 190˚C. If you do not have a cooking thermometer, a cube of bread dropped into the oil will immediately sizzle and turn brown by the time you have counted to 10, when the oil is hot enough.

Lower the chips into the oil and fry for about five minutes, moving them around with a heatproof spatula or slotted spoon, to ensure even cooking. Remove and drain on crumpled kitchen paper. Finish cooking the rest of the chips in stage one. For stage two, heat the oil to 200˚C and put the chips back in the oil in batches, frying for two to three minutes until they are golden brown.

Remove from the fat, drain on kitchen paper and then serve them, or keep them warm in the oven, while you finish cooking the rest of the chips. A sprinkling of Gozo sea salt is all the adornment they need.

Chips cooked like this are good enough to eat on their own, dipped Belgian-fashion into really good mayonnaise or, of course, with a perfectly grilled steak or piece of fish.

If I want a larger quantity, then homemade, oven-baked chips are the answer. Proceed as for the perfect chip and, when you have dried the chips, spray with little olive oil, put on baking trays and cook at 180˚C, Gas Mark 4, for 30 to 35 minutes.