MIMI’S CORNER - Fish & chips: the absolutely 100% true origin story

His stomach was inching close to his backbone and weariness and worry were beginning to set in. As darkness loomed in the night sky, hopes of sighting his prey diminished, and he looked for a safe place to cross the wide stream to get back to the safety of their camp.

Across the stream, on the other side of the hill, she was working to rekindle the fire to cook whatever meat he could find, as well as keep them warm through the night and ward off predators.

Her work with the flintstone paid off: a spark landed on the pile of dried grass, igniting the kindling. She carefully cupped her hands around the nascent flame and nursed it into a small fire. Feeding it more twigs, then small branches, and finally a small log, her efforts came to fruition, and she was confident that they would have enough warmth to last the night. She laid the flat stone onto the growing fire to garner heat.

And she waited.

Meanwhile, his keen sense of hearing detected menacing sounds behind him. Bear? Catamount? A new urgency spurred his haste to cross the stream before a predator caught up with him. Closer and closer came the crunching of twigs, the sounds of pursuit. His steps became faster as he approached the water. Cold as he already was, he dreaded the swim across it. Gathering his deerskin bag closer to his body, he rushed into the water, hoping the current wouldn’t wash him so far downstream that he would be unable to find the path back to her in the gathering darkness.

In his haste, he lost his footing and fell into the water. With the strong current, he struggled to reach the shore, nearly losing his precious bag in the rushing water. At last, he was able to grab a tree root, hoist himself from the water, and head upwards.

Not knowing whether or not he had a successful hunt, she prepared some roots for their sustenance, cutting them and laying them on the hot stone. As he topped the hill and looked downward, he spotted the camp and began to run through the brush. He tripped over a root and tumbled toward her and the fire she had dutifully built. The deerskin bag spilled its contents to the four winds, but one object landed on the hot rock, nestling into the heated pieces of roots.

And so Plod and Grogetta dined on the first-ever fish and chips.