You’re staring at a white fish fillet and a bag of russets, thinking about dinner. It's a classic combination. But for some reason, people treat fish and potato soup like it’s some high-stakes culinary exam where one wrong move turns the whole pot into a rubbery, fishy mess. It isn’t that deep. Honestly, the best versions of this dish—whether you call it a chowder, a cullskink, or just "soup"—thrive on being a bit lazy.
The secret isn't in some expensive saffron thread or a specialized copper pot. It’s about timing. Most people overcook the fish until it’s basically sawdust in a bowl of cream. They also pick the wrong potato. Use a waxy red potato if you want chunks; use a starchy russet if you want the soup to thicken itself. It’s a binary choice that changes everything about the texture.
People have been throwing fish and tubers into pots for centuries. It’s survival food that accidentally became gourmet. From the shores of New England to the fjords of Norway, the logic remains the same: use what’s fresh, don’t boil the life out of it, and for heaven's sake, use real butter.
The Great Potato Debate: Texture Over Everything
Most recipes won't tell you this, but your potato choice is more important than the fish. Seriously. If you grab a handful of Yukon Golds, you're going for a middle-of-the-road vibe. They hold their shape but offer a bit of creaminess. But if you want a fish and potato soup that feels like a warm hug, you need those high-starch Russets.
As they simmer, the edges of a Russet potato start to fray. Those tiny starch granules break off and act as a natural thickener. You don't even need a roux. You just need patience. On the flip side, if you're the kind of person who likes distinct, firm cubes that survive a reheat, go with Red Bliss. They have less starch and a tighter molecular structure. They won't "melt" into the broth, which is great for aesthetics but less "cozy" on the palate.
There's a specific technique called "staggering." You drop half the potatoes in early so they disintegrate. You drop the other half in fifteen minutes later so they stay whole. It’s a pro move that makes the soup feel professional without actually requiring any extra ingredients.
Why Your Fish Keeps Turning Into Rubber
Here is the thing. Fish is delicate.
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Most home cooks treat fish like beef stew meat. They sear it, then boil it for forty minutes. That is a crime. By the time the soup is done, the fish has the texture of an old eraser. In a proper fish and potato soup, the fish should only touch the heat for the last five to seven minutes. Basically, you turn the heat down to a bare simmer, gently nestle the chunks of cod or haddock into the liquid, and let the residual heat do the work.
It should flake under the slightest pressure from a spoon. If you have to chew it, you messed up.
Choice of fish matters too, obviously. Lean, white fish like Atlantic Cod, Haddock, or Pollock are the industry standards for a reason. They have a clean flavor profile that doesn't overwhelm the delicate sweetness of the potatoes. If you try to use something oily like Mackerel or even certain types of Salmon, the fat will separate and create a film on top of your soup. It tastes fine, but it looks like an oil slick. Stick to the white fish if you want that classic, creamy finish.
A Note on Modern Sustainability
If you're shopping in 2026, you've probably noticed that Atlantic Cod isn't as cheap or as plentiful as it used to be. The Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) frequently updates their "Blue Label" ratings. Right now, Pacific Cod is often a more sustainable bet. Or, if you want to be a real hero of the kitchen, try Monkfish. It’s often called "poor man’s lobster" because it’s firm and meaty. It holds up exceptionally well in a soup base without falling apart into microscopic flakes.
The Liquid Gold: Broth vs. Milk vs. Cream
Let's be real: water is not an ingredient here. If you make this with just water and a bouillon cube, your soul will feel empty.
A traditional fish and potato soup needs a base that has some weight. Most people think they need heavy cream. You don't. In fact, a lot of authentic coastal recipes use a 50/50 mix of whole milk and fish stock. The fish stock provides the "umami" or savory depth, while the milk provides the silkiness.
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If you can't find fish stock—and let's face it, most grocery store fish stocks taste like a tide pool—just use a high-quality clam juice. It’s bottled, it’s shelf-stable, and it’s a cheat code for instant depth. Mix that with some sautéed leeks and onions, and you have a foundation that beats any fancy restaurant.
- Sauté leeks and celery in butter until they’re soft. Don't brown them.
- Add your potatoes and your liquid (stock and milk).
- Simmer until the potatoes are tender.
- Add the fish at the very end.
- Season with more black pepper than you think you need.
The Secret Ingredient You’re Ignoring: Acid
Fat needs a foil. Between the potatoes, the butter, and the milk, this soup can get "heavy." It sits on your tongue and stays there. To fix this, you need a hit of acid right before you serve.
A tiny splash of white wine vinegar or a squeeze of fresh lemon juice cuts through the starch and fat. It "brightens" the flavor. You won't actually taste "lemon," you'll just taste a better version of the fish. It’s the difference between a soup that’s "fine" and a soup that people ask for the recipe for.
Also, don't sleep on fresh dill. It’s the classic pairing for a reason. The anise-like sweetness of dill works perfectly with the earthiness of the potatoes. Parsley is fine if you're boring, but dill is where the magic happens.
Common Mistakes That Ruin the Batch
- Boiling the milk: If you let the soup reach a rolling boil after adding the dairy, it might curdle. It still tastes okay, but it looks grainy. Keep it at a "lazy bubble."
- Cutting potatoes too big: If your potato chunks are the size of golf balls, they won't cook evenly with the fish. Aim for half-inch cubes.
- Too much salt too early: Stock reduces. Salt doesn't. If you salt the pot at the beginning, by the time it simmers down, it might be a salt bomb. Season at the end.
- Skipping the aromatics: If you don't start with onions, leeks, or garlic, your soup will taste like wet cardboard. You need that flavor base.
The Cult of the Chowder: Regional Variations
Is it a fish and potato soup or a chowder? Technically, a chowder is just a sub-category that usually implies a thicker consistency and the presence of pork fat (like salt pork or bacon).
In Newfoundland, they make a "Fish Brewis" which is similar but uses hard bread. In Scotland, the "Cullen Skink" uses smoked haddock, which adds a completely different, campfire-like dimension to the potato base. If you want to level up your home cooking, try using a bit of smoked fish. It adds a complexity that fresh fish just can't match. You only need a little bit—maybe 20% of the total fish weight—to change the entire profile of the dish.
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Interestingly, many Mediterranean versions of this soup ditch the dairy entirely. They use olive oil and tomatoes. It’s still a fish and potato soup, but it feels lighter, more like a "stew." If you’re lactose intolerant or just want something different, a tomato-based broth with plenty of garlic and saffron is a world-class alternative.
Practical Steps for Your Next Batch
Stop overthinking the recipe and just start cooking. If you want a result that actually tastes like a coastal kitchen, follow these specific moves:
- Go buy a bottle of clam juice. Seriously. It’s in the canned tuna aisle. It’s the single biggest upgrade you can make for under three dollars.
- Sauté your aromatics in butter, not oil. Fish and potatoes love butter. The fat carries the flavor of the leeks and onions better than olive oil ever could.
- Use the "Fork Test" on your potatoes. Before you even think about touching the fish, make sure a fork slides into a potato cube with zero resistance. If the potato is hard, the soup isn't ready.
- Turn off the burner. Once the potatoes are soft, drop the fish in, put a lid on the pot, and turn off the stove. The residual heat will poach the fish perfectly in about five minutes without overcooking it.
- Finish with fat and acid. Stir in a tablespoon of fresh butter and a teaspoon of lemon juice right before ladling it into bowls.
This isn't about following a rigid set of rules. It’s about understanding how these ingredients interact. Potatoes provide the body; fish provides the soul; the broth ties them together. If you keep the heat low and the ingredients fresh, you’ll have a meal that tastes like it took all day, even if it only took thirty minutes.
Keep your seasoning simple. Salt, heavy black pepper, and maybe a pinch of cayenne if you like a bit of back-end heat. That’s all you need. Serve it with a piece of crusty sourdough bread to swipe up the leftover starch at the bottom of the bowl.
The best part? This soup is almost always better the next day. The starches continue to break down in the fridge, making the broth even creamier. Just be careful when reheating—do it slowly on the stovetop, never the microwave, or you’ll finally turn that fish into the rubber you were trying to avoid.