and it does not so much affect the companionship of its relations, as do the sole, dab, and plaice. On the contrary, it is somewhat an “exclusive.” With the Spaniards and Italians, I have observed brill to be much esteemed; and as both are Catholic nations, and, consequently, fish-eaters to a great extent, I do not think that to be a bad test of its popularity.
The brill is a handsome fish, closely resembling the turbot, but marked on the back with small “pepper and salt” spots, in a beautiful “mottled” fashion. Fine brill are taken in the Channel, and Newhaven, Scarborough, and Filey produce the best I have seen. The brill is not so thick or heavy as the turbot, and the white of the belly has a more transparent appearance than that of the latter, the belly of which is literally like snow; whereas that of the brill, if I may use a curious simile, more nearly resembles “tissue-paper.”
I cannot, however, spare more space for notes on this fish, and will speak of a member of the tribe, which in its importance as a cheap article of food for the poor, is only second to the herring. I allude to the Plaice.
Like all other flat-fish, plaice are chiefly caught in the net; but I have taken them very often with a hand-line. The great, noble Dutch plaice is a magnificent and handsome fellow—far handsomer than any others of the family—and plaice, either boiled or fried, are by no means so insipid as some assert, that is, if they are in proper season. The very large ones, cut in strips, or fillets, fried in fine bread crumbs, and served with fennel, or shrimp sauce, are white, delicate, and excellent. Always use a little Harvey sauce with your melted butter, and if you do not like plaice so cooked, you are not of my opinion. The finest plaice come from the coasts of Yorkshire, Kent, and Holland. The North Sea plaice are superb. As do his cousins, the plaice likes a smooth muddy bed, but he will frequent rocky inlets where prawns abound, of which “crustacea” he is very fond.
Flat-fish, when they are on the feed (which operation they perform side-ways, on account of the peculiar formation of their mouths), are most extraordinary objects; but I will not ridicule the plaice, which, from his interesting and sagacious habits, has always been a favourite fish with me. Plaice have broader fins than most flat-fish, and a large plaice, just out of the sea, grandly flapping his fan-like fringe, is really a noble fish. They are adorned on the back with bright orange spots, about the size of split peas, and their eyes are more prominent than those of the other class of this genus, the eyes of the sole being the least so of all. The plaice is gregarious, and I have taken from four to six score with a hand-line, on the same spot, in a few hours, catching them two and two (hand-lines have always two hooks), as fast as I could pull them in and re-bait. The bait I used was a “log-worm,” which is dug out of muddy bays at low water, and bears a curious resemblance to a hairy caterpillar. It is a very killing bait, as no salt-water fish will refuse it. The price of these worms is about a shilling per hundred.
Plaice should be eaten within a few hours of being caught. They are not as good if kept longer. Londoners have no idea whatever of what a plaice should be.
Plaice, when they are on a good feeding-ground, run to considerable size, and attain great thickness. In choosing them for the table take short, thick fish in preference to the larger ones, and note that this rule holds good with all fish but soles. A thin, or, to use a more expressive word, a “lanky” plaice is poor at best, and a “lanky” cod is positively detestable. The fishermen term such, “razors” and “hospital fish,” the latter epithet being, in my judgment, very apt and expressive.
I leave the plaice reluctantly, but I am warned by considerations of space to pass on to the Dab, which is an entirely distinct fish, though often sold for the plaice to ignorant persons. The dab is of the same shape, but smaller than the plaice, and has no orange spots on its back, that portion of its body being of a dirty brown, and presenting none of the beautiful mottled attractions of the plaice. Further, the back-skin of the plaice is soft and fine, whilst that of the dab is coarse and rough, and, passing the hand backwards down it, feels to the touch precisely like a nutmeg-grater. (Let the reader, if opportunity present, try this curious experiment.) Dabs are caught in the same way as plaice. The dab is a favourite fish with the fishermen, and is usually dried by them in the sun, and eaten after a few days’ interval. I know of many worse morsels for a breakfast relish than a hot grilled dab with coffee and muffins, whether the fish be fresh or smoked. Such a breakfast has often been my choice, and I hope will be so again.
Dismissing the dab with this well-deserved commendation, let me give a “letter-of-credit” to that pretty but very common little fish the flounder.
Flounders possess the convenient capability of living either in fresh or salt water, and they strike a compromise by preferring those places where the water is neither one thing nor the other, that is to say, at the mouth of great rivers. The flounder, like the eel, literally revels in mud, and he is a very lively, engaging little fellow.
Somehow or other, though the “take” of flounders is very large, we rarely see that fish on our tables, except in the form of water-souchet, once a year, at Greenwich or Blackwall. I am quite unable to explain this phenomenon. The flounder is an artful little gentleman, and I once saw one fairly beat a dangerous enemy in a most amusing fashion. It was in this wise:—Standing one day whilst the tide was going out, on the pier of a pretty watering-place in the Isle of Thanet (Broadstairs), I saw a water-rat—they abound in old piers—dive into about three feet of water after a mud-flounder, which positively dodged him more than a minute, and ultimately inserted itself into a crack or crevice of the old woodwork of the pier where it lay as on a ledge, and the rat could not introduce so much as a paw. After watching the curious spectacle some ten minutes (the rat all the while watching both myself and the flounder), I was so pleased with the sagacity shown by