In other places, the transformation from winter to spring is noted by the bloom of the first crocus or the arrival of the first robin.

Around these parts, spring is heralded by the battering and frying of the first fish.

With spring comes Lent, and with Lent comes fish fries. It is an annual ritual as sacred and as inviolate as Spring Training.

But as much as we love supporting all of the local churches, Elks clubs, and American Legion and VFW posts, you don’t actually have to go to them to have delicious fried fish. You can make your own fish fry at home.

It’s easy and it’s fun. Your house may smell like the kitchen of a fish-and-chips restaurant, but it’s easy and fun.

I fried up what is technically called a mess of fish, with all the fixings (which are technically called fixin’s). It tasted like a Friday night at Our Lady, Star of the Sea.

Fish fry fish comes battered and fried, breaded and fried, and baked. I battered and breaded mine, but I did not bake it because it is a fish fry, not a fish bake. I understand the difference in calories, but that’s not the point.

The fish-fry fish that is battered and fried is usually going to be cod, though the technique also works with any number of other types of firm, white-flesh fish: haddock, pollock, halibut or even striped bass.

But cod is cheap and plentiful, which makes it the ideal fish for a fry.

The problem with battered fish is the batter. Under the wrong circumstances, it can be too thick and even bready. So I turned to the writings of J. Kenji Lopez-Alt, who is either a science-minded food writer or a food-minded science writer. As I’d hoped, he had a couple of suggestions for making batter that is as light as air.

And you do that by filling it with air, or at least carbon dioxide. He slowly mixes beer into this batter, which traps little bubbles of carbon dioxide in it. If you don’t want beer, soda water will do the same trick.

He also keeps the beer (or soda water) ice cold, because colder liquid holds carbonation better. I put my beer in a bowl of ice water for an hour before cooking to make it as cold as possible. In addition, I mixed the cold beer with ice water, instead of regular water, because colder liquid also keeps gluten from forming – and gluten makes the batter thick.

It took just a little more effort than the unfussy way of frying battered fish, but I think it was worth it. My fish was as good as anything I’ve ever had at a fish-and-chips restaurant or my nearest VFW hall.

Breading is easier, of course, so I also breaded some catfish fillets. I did this two ways, once after first soaking them in milk and once without the soak.

Common wisdom holds that the milk makes catfish taste less fishy, and, in this case, the common wisdom is correct. I highly recommend soaking your catfish in milk, and it won’t even add any time to your cooking process. Simply put the catfish in the milk when you begin to heat the oil, and you’ll be fine.

I used hot oil for the side dishes, too.

There is a simple but effective trick to making french fries that are delicately crisp on the outside and creamy smooth inside: Fry them twice.

It’s as simple as that. The first time, fry your hand-cut fries at 325 degrees for a few minutes. That basically cooks the fries all the way through, though the texture is soft. Then, fry them again at 375 degrees for just a couple of minutes. This step cooks the outside again until it becomes crispy without overcooking the interior.

With a liberal sprinkling of salt, the fries will be some of the best you’ve ever had.

Good fish fries, though, don’t limit themselves to French fries. The best fish fries also offer hush puppies.

Hush puppies are one of those great American dishes: cornmeal with a bit of onion, moistened with buttermilk and fried in oil. Nothing else is quite like them.

The ones I made were lighter than most, probably because the batter is made with both baking powder and baking soda. They puffed up enchantingly when they hit the hot oil, and they quickly cooked into golden balls of delicious fried cornmeal.

The french fries looked at them with envy.

The natural condiment with fried fish is tartar sauce; nothing else gives a satisfyingly sharp pop of contrasting creaminess to fried fish. You can buy it in a jar, and it will be fine. You can make it yourself, and it will be fabulous.

It’s actually a complex little sauce – complex in flavors, I mean. Mayonnaise is enlivened with minced shallot and emboldened with the addition of capers and chopped cornichons. Parsley adds a rounding note, sugar mellows the vinegar from the cornichons, and salt and pepper season it to perfection.

It all comes together in a matter of minutes, yet it makes your carefully fried fish taste even better.

Of course, a fish isn’t a fish fry unless there is also coleslaw. Without coleslaw, it isn’t a fish fry, it’s just some fried fish.

I made a batch that emphasizes the cabbage, not the mayo. But the other ingredients (carrots, caraway, mustard, vinegar and sugar) also keep the cabbage from tasting too cabbagy.

It was just the way I like it. If you want more mayo, by all means add more mayo.

After all, it’s your fish fry.