Midnight at the chip shop

Text 1: The Golden Fryer, by Declan Shawcross

An original short story extract.

It was nearly midnight and raining when we pushed open the door of the Golden Fryer. The heat hit us at once, like stepping off a plane somewhere sunny. The windows were steamed up so thickly that the street outside had disappeared, and the fat in the fryers crackled and spat behind the glass counter. Mr Christou, in his white coat, was scooping chips into paper cones with a wire basket that hissed every time it went back into the oil. Above the counter a fan turned slowly, pushing the warm air around rather than cooling anything. My glasses fogged up immediately. Ama took her hat off and shook the rain out of it, and her cheeks went from blue to pink while we waited. We stood by the hot cabinet with our hands spread over the glass, as if it were a campfire.

Give three words or phrases that show how warm the chip shop is.