Batter Up

Each holiday comes with its consumable customs. At Christmas, it’s eggnog and figgy pudding; for New Year’s, it’s champagne and caviar. On St. Patrick’s Day, it’s time to break out the beer mugs.

Which is fine except that someone, somewhere in the dark, undocumented history of St. Paddy’s Day--let’s say sometime after the annual Chicago parade caught on but before the “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons hit the scene--added green food coloring to the brew.

At first green beer seemed natural. During my college years, when beer-drinking was serious business, you couldn’t swing a shillelagh on March 17 without hitting an emerald-green pint of Budweiser.

I remained green-tongued on this holiday for several more years until I had my first sip of true Irish beer--a pint of Guinness Stout with a color so dark it made food coloring an exercise in futility. I dropped the green dye from my diet and embraced the dark side of beer.

From then on, while some were at the corner pub shouting “Erin go bragh,” I was in my kitchen thinking “Erin go beer.” I chose to celebrate the festivities by spiking stews, roasts, ribs, chili, breads, whole chickens and even salad dressings with malt beverages ranging from pale ales to extra stouts.

A hearty roast and a pint of Guinness are fine if you are waiting out the vestiges of an East Coast winter, where March does indeed “come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.” But here in Southern California, where the thermostat is on “low bleat” year-round, the meat-and-stout route seems, well, a little heavy-handed.

A few months ago I shared my problem with a friend’s new girlfriend, who was a native of County Dublin. As she patiently pointed out, the cuisine of the Emerald Isle no more revolves around corned beef and cabbage than it does green food coloring. Irish cuisine is known for its high-quality seafood, she informed me.

Which makes sense for an island roughly the size of Maine, with 1,970 miles of coastline. According to the Irish Sea Fisheries Board, at last count in 2001 the Irish seafood industry employed more than 15,000 people and harvested 354,803 metric tons of fish.

Back in Los Angeles, restaurateurs and television hosts Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger add beer to their batter for rock shrimp and other types of seafood such as halibut, sole and flounder. The beer provides a malty backdrop for the dish’s fiery cayenne kick. This year I can have my beer and eat it too.

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Beer-Battered Rock Shrimp With Honey Mustard

Serves 6

1 cup all-purpose flour, plus extra flour for dusting

2 teaspoons cayenne

2 teaspoons salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon granulated sugar

1 8-ounce bottle of beer, room temperature

1 1/2 pounds rock shrimp

4 cups peanut oil for frying

Lemon wedges for garnish

Honey-Mustard Dipping Sauce

6 tablespoons honey

1/4 cup Dijon mustard

1/4 teaspoon Tabasco

To make batter, combine flour, cayenne, salt, baking powder and sugar in a medium bowl. Add beer and whisk until smooth. Set aside uncovered for at least an hour.

In a large saucepan, heat oil to deep-fry temperature, about 350 degrees. Test oil by sprinkling in a few drops of batter. If they immediately rise to the surface, the oil is ready.

Dry strips of rock shrimp or fish on paper towels and then dust with flour, patting well to remove excess. Thoroughly coat shrimp by dipping one at a time in batter. Fry 5 pieces at a time until crisp and golden, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine dipping sauce ingredients in a small bowl and set aside.

Remove fish or shrimp with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Serve immediately with lemon wedges and dipping sauce.

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Adam Tschorn last wrote for the magazine about repairing kitchen utensils.