By The restaurant smoker arrived. The custom forty-two-inch offset, fabricated in Lockhart, Texas, delivered to the Westheimer space on a flatbed truck on Wednesday morning. I was there. Lily was there. James was there. The fabricator's delivery team — two guys from the Hill Country with serious faces and the careful hands of men who transport things that matter — unloaded it with a forklift and set it in the window frame. It fit. Exactly. The measurements I'd spec'd, the clearances I'd calculated, the chimney placement I'd drawn on a napkin two years ago — it all fit.
The smoker is beautiful. Matte black steel, thick-gauge, with a firebox that could hold twenty pounds of oak. The name — SMOKE AND NUOC MAM — is laser-cut into the side panel in clean block letters. Through the plate glass window, from the sidewalk on Westheimer, you can see it. You can see the heart of the restaurant. James stood in front of it and put his hand on the side and didn't say anything for a minute. Then he said, "This is real." I said, "Yeah." He said, "Bobby — this is real." I said, "I know, son." I called him son. I've never done that before. It came out naturally, like it had been waiting.
Lily stood in the doorway and looked at the smoker and then looked at me and said, "Thank you, Dad." I said, "Don't thank me. Open the restaurant. That's how you thank me." She nodded. She turned back to the smoker. The three of us stood in the half-built restaurant on Westheimer in Montrose and looked at the thing that would define the next chapter of all our lives, and the afternoon sun came through the window and lit up the steel and the name and the dust in the air, and it looked like the beginning of something. Because it was.
Went home and smoked a brisket. Not for any reason. Just because. Fourteen hours over oak, the fish sauce lemongrass rub, the patience. The same thing I've done a thousand times. But this time, looking at my backyard smoker, I thought about the one on Westheimer, the one in the window, the one with my daughter's name on the side. The chain extends. Mr. Clarence to Bobby to Lily. The fire moves forward.
That night, after the smoker was in the window and James had said “this is real” and Lily had said “thank you, Dad,” I didn’t want anything complicated — I wanted something hot and honest and done with my hands. Beer battered fish is that. It’s the kind of food that asks you to pay attention, to get the oil right, to trust the batter, and then rewards you with something golden and simple and true. The big smoker on Westheimer will do the slow work. This is the fast work — the kind that brings you back to yourself after a day that changed everything.
Crispy Beer Battered Fish
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs white fish fillets (cod, haddock, or pollock), cut into pieces
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for finishing
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 cup cold beer (lager or pale ale)
- 1 large egg
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)
- Lemon wedges, for serving
- Tartar sauce or malt vinegar, for serving
Instructions
- Dry the fish. Pat the fish fillets dry with paper towels on all sides. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Set aside on a rack.
- Make the batter. In a large bowl, whisk together 1 cup of flour, the baking powder, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and black pepper. Add the cold beer and egg and whisk until a smooth batter forms — a few small lumps are fine. Do not overmix. Keep the batter cold.
- Set up for dredging. Place the remaining 1/2 cup flour in a shallow dish. Working with one piece at a time, dredge each fish piece in the dry flour and shake off the excess. This helps the batter adhere.
- Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 3 inches. Heat over medium-high heat to 375°F. Use a thermometer — temperature control is the difference between crispy and greasy.
- Fry the fish. Dip each flour-dusted fish piece into the beer batter, letting the excess drip off, then carefully lower into the hot oil. Fry in batches — do not crowd the pot — for 3 to 4 minutes per side, until deep golden and crispy. The internal temperature should reach 145°F.
- Drain and season. Remove the fried fish with a slotted spoon or spider and transfer to a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Season immediately with a pinch of kosher salt. Do not place on paper towels or the bottom will steam and go soft.
- Serve. Serve hot with lemon wedges and tartar sauce or a splash of malt vinegar. Best eaten immediately while the crust is at its crispiest.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 410 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg