Wednesday, October 15. 2008
Roasted Yellow Tomato and Quince Sauce
Sunday, April 20. 2008
Gravlax – start your own church
Friday, April 18. 2008
Bouillabaisse that I refuse to call Fish Stew
In one of Julia Child’s early cooking shows, back when they were black and white, she makes a Bouillabaisse that includes half the creatures of the sea. If memory serves me just a little, she creates a stock by sautéing aromatics and adding tomatoes (or was it paste?), fennel, saffron, thyme, bay, and orange peel (or was it zest?). After a bit she puts in a Conger, some shellfish, an eel (an eel!) and some sort of large hacked up thing and an impressive fish head. The shellfish enter the pot last and while things are bubbling away she waves her arms and steam flies into the camera lens.After a bit, she pulls out the fish, arranges them on the platter and ladles out the broth into a bowl. The camera pans lustily over the table and follows her as she sits down. The frame cocks a little– like a begging dog– she bids the audience farewell and the credits roll. What we don’t see, but what I have myself convinced happens next, is the studio crew fighting for seats around the table.
A little too often than I would like to admit, I think of the composer Erik Satie. The Satie would dine every Friday at the house of his friend from Marseille. Satie's friend would receive, every week, a package of fish from her family and she made bouillabaisse. Satie, being a man of habit, must have sat at the same seat, wearing the same suit ready to eat the same piece of fish every Friday for months. When I think of bouillabaisse, I think of Satie at the Friday dinner table, his little spectacles translucent with steam, his face pressed close to the regal display of fish scraps. His compositions remind me of Bouillabaisse– a jumble of melodies played at no specific time –a lilt and heft of notes based on the interpretation of hand making them.
What we make, Erik and I, is not bouillabaisse. What we make is fish soup. Save for the fact that I won't call it fish soup, it's fish soup. The words fish soup denote a Wagner opera. I hate Wagner.
Bouillabaisse means something rich and wonderful and elegant and humble – just like Erik’s cooking.
The recipe below is not true bouillabaisse. It is our Friday tradition and it is simpler than its namesake.
We buy fish, whatever it is, on sale. Erik doesn’t buy oily fish for this recipe, but makes a point to buy whatever fish is the cheapest. The scraps don’t have to be pretty. We happen to have access to inexpensive shellfish so we use cheap shellfish.
The method:
Heat stock pot.
Add olive oil.
Sear shrimp and remove the shrimp.
Saute onion, garlic and celery in oil and add a pinch of saffron, chili flakes and orange zest.
Deglaze pot with white wine.
Add Stock and bring to a simmer. Add cubed potatoes. Cook until potatoes are tender.
Check seasonings (as the potatoes, gluttons that they are, will suck up some of your seasonings).
Add mussels and fish (2” pieces) and simmer. When mussels start to open, return the shrimp and remove from heat.
Garnish, for a bright flavor, with flat parsley.
Serve with bread and salad.
Shopping list:
Fish. Fish. Fish. (Avoid the oily stuff: Salmon, Mackerel, sardines)
Potatoes (2 lbs cubed)
Onion (one)
Garlic (two cloves)
Celery (two stalks)
Saffron (pinch, unless you have a glut of old saffron, it that case a three finger pinch)
Chili Flakes
Orange for Zest
White wine.


