French Provincial Cooking - Elizabeth David [171]
The sauce
First chop together the leaves of half a dozen sprigs of tarragon, the same of parsley and chervil and 2 small shallots. Then work together 2 oz. of butter and a teaspoon of flour, add a teaspoon of French mustard, the beaten yolks of 2 eggs and pint of thin cream. Blend with the herb and shallot mixture, season, and put all in a small saucepan. Heat with the saucepan standing in hot water, stirring all the time until the sauce thickens. Do not let it boil. Immediately before serving, squeeze in the juice of a small lemon.
LA BOUILLABAISSE (1)
A whole chapter could be devoted to the bouillabaisse. Every French gastronomic writer and cook for the past hundred years (and some before that) have expounded their theories upon the dish so beloved of the Marseillais, and each one of them gives his own recipe—the only authentic one. And, however many Marseillais, Toulonnais, Antibois or other natives of Provence you ask for the correct recipe, you will never get the same instructions twice.
There is no authentic bouillabaisse without white wine, you are told; it is a heresy of the most deadly kind to add white wine; the best bouillabaisse includes a langouste and mussels; langouste and mussels are only added in Paris because they haven’t the other requisite fish; you must rub the croûtons with garlic; you must on no account rub the croûtons with garlic, and so on and so on.
I would not myself think it a great deprivation if I were told that I could never again eat a bouillabaisse. I have had good ones and bad ones, but to be quite truthful I have also eaten far superior dishes of the same sort, call it a soup or a stew or what you like, in Italy, notably on the Adriatic coast (and I hope no Marseillais will ever see these words, for the consequences might be serious).
However, for those who are interested in both the theory and the practice of the cooking of a bouillabaisse, a few constant factors emerge from all the confusion. They are as follows:
(1) It is useless attempting to make a bouillabaisse away from the shores of the Mediterranean. All sorts of variations can be and are devised in other parts of the world, but it would be foolish to pretend that these have more than a remote relationship to the true bouillabaisse.
(2) The fish must be spanking fresh from the sea, and of diverse kinds. The rascasse is essential, and the fish is always served with its head. If langouste is included, this is cut in half lengthways and served in its shell. Mussels, if part of the bouillabaisse, are likewise left in their shells.
(3) Olive oil and saffron are equally essential.
(4) Furious boiling, so that the olive oil and water (or wine if you are a heretic) amalgamate, is another absolute essential of the success of the dish.
(6) The Toulonnais sometimes add potatoes (a practice which appals a Marseillais). The potatoes are best cut (raw) into thin rounds and added at the same time as the soft fish.
(7) A bouillabaisse is not intended to be a soup. There should merely be enough of the broth, fused with the olive oil by the very rapid boiling, to produce a generous amount of moistening for the slices of bread.
From all the writers who have poured out such eloquent words (very often in verse) on the subject of the bouillabaisse, I have chosen two descriptions to quote and both of these include splendid recipes. But what, I cannot help wondering, would be the consequences if any of these people should chance to see what I with my own eyes have seen—tins, yes, tins, pint tins of something called Danish bouillabaisse actually on sale, proudly displayed in our most expensive food stores. What unhappy man can have had such a terrible, sad idea? Who are the people who can be induced to buy such concentrated effrontery?
LA BOUILLABAISSE (2)
Austin de Croze, who gives the following recipe in Les Plats Régionaux de France,