Upon seeing the title of this post, a person (at least, a person identifying as a Doctor Who fan) might ask me, “Jen, did you choose this recipe simply because it reminded you of Doctor Who, and you miss your favorite show?” And I would glance around guiltily, shuffle my feet, and mumble, “Yes.”
If you aren’t up on your Doctor Who plot-lines, I’ll give you a brief synopsis of the relevant facts:
Once upon a wibbly wobbly time, a Raggedy Doctor with a funny blue telephone box landed rather badly in the garden of a young girl named Amelia Pond. Because he was a silly old man who had very recently regenerated into a silly young man, he was a little bit out of sorts. Shortly after his arrival, he tried and rejected a variety of perfectly acceptable foods before deciding upon his favorite: fish fingers and custard.
So, when I found a recipe for fish custard in a British cookbook from 1948, I did a happy little dance (and afterwards looked around to make sure no one saw me). Yes, I know fish custard is somewhat different than fish fingers and custard, but the concept is similar. You’ve got fish! You’ve got custard! The only difference is that it’s in one convenient dish instead of making a person (or Timelord) go through all the trouble of dipping their fish fingers into the custard. You might call it Deconstructed Reconstructed Doctor Who Cuisine. Or not.
Did a small part of my delusional, nerdy mind hope that I could summon a TARDIS to my garden by making a fish custard? Maybe. Did I lay out a plate of Jammie Dodgers just in case? Yes.
Fish custard tastes like almost nothing. It’s a soft, eggy baked custard with soft, bland pieces of flakey white fish in it. It really isn’t anything to write home about. Unless your home is on Gallifrey.
Fish Custard
1½ lb. filleted haddocks
1 dessertspoonful* flour
1 teaspoonful butter
1 egg
1 teacup* milk
pepper and salt
Cut fish into pieces and place in a pie-dish. Sprinkle pepper and salt over it, then mix in a bowl 1 dessertspoonful flour, teaspoonful butter (melted), 1 egg (well beaten), 1 teacupful milk. Pour this mixture over fish and put in a moderate oven for 35 minutes. (Halibut is good with a squeeze of lemon juice over.)
*I found an excellent resource for converting archaic or “heirloom” units of measurement. According to the conversion chart, 1 dessertspoonful = about 2 tsp, and 1 teacupful = about ¾ cup.
The recipe featured in this post comes from the Tried Favourites Cookery Book, by Mrs. E. W. Kirk. Twenty-sixth and Enlarged Edition printed in 1948.
8 replies on “Morbid Curiosity: Fish Custard”
I’m glad the custard was so inoffensive because the picture would have me believe otherwise. Bonus points for the awesome, retro presentation!
hello,
thank you for the recipe. I think I will womanfully restrain myself from trying it.
Just one thing.
It’s a police box, not a telephone box.
best,
:e
You are absolutely right. My bad. I blame the fish custard for addling my brain. I’d try to sonic my head, but I have it on good authority that it doesn’t work on wood.
This is so wrong- why ruin two perfectly good things by putting them together. But I am loving the “heirloom measurements”- you learn something new every day!
It’s all just so strange. Â And it’s totally unfair that you had to eat fish custard without a Doctor to share it with.
On the plus side, if he shows up now, I can shout, “I remember you, Raggedy Man, and you are LATE FOR MY FISH CUSTARD!”
The title alone terrified me! Big ups to you for tackling this!
Did it smell fishy? If you tossed a little sugar and vanilla in it could you pretend like it was tasty custard?