Schlepping for Bouillabaisse

[robert brown]

In all of food television, the personality I get the biggest kick from is Jean-Luc Petitrenaud, the host of France’s TV 5 “Carte Postale Gourmande”. He’s an amusing character, rather fey and highly-animated who loves mugging to the camera. Each week he visits one or more restaurants, food artisans, farmers or winemaker and makes them seem so special that you want to visit wherever he has been the next time you go to France. Indeed, you may not even have to go to France to see the program since TV 5 has an American service that is available on some cable systems for about $5.00 a month. Although there are no subtitles, “Carte Postale Gourmande” is a treat even if you don’t understand French. If you go to the TV 5 web site and find the page for the program, you can get the names of where Petitreynaud has been on every program.

Nearly three years ago, “Carte Postale Gourmande” made a stop at a restaurant-café-bar, Le Maurin des Maures, in the town of Le Rayol-Canadel on the Var coast a bit west of St.Tropez. The establishment specializes in fish and offers a bouillabaisse that one needs to order a day ahead. Jean-Luc made the place seem so appealing and the bouillabaisse so delicious that my wife and I put Le Maurin des Maures on our “hit list” right along with L’Ambroisie and Pierre Gagnaire. A year ago we were frustrated in going by the abnormally cold weather that kept the fisherman at bay: a good sign, however, as it removed from the equation the possibility of the use of frozen or refrigerated fish. This year, however, the weather cooperated with a warming trend and having rounded up our Nicois friends Monique and Andre to accompany us, I phoned and order a bouillabaisse (or “bouilla” as the chap at the other end called it) for four.

Arriving this past Sunday at 13:00, we walked into a bustling, busy restaurant whose walls were covered with clumsy reproductions of famous French paintings such as Vincent Van Gogh’s “Portrait of Dr. Gachet”, various Modiglianis and Picassos, maladroit works by the local amateurs and the “de rigeur” photos of management with celebrity visitors.

The clientele was nearly all French with a smattering of Brits. The place is heavily weighted to taking care of the locals given the large bar that divides the café and the restaurant, and a small room in the front devoted to electronic games and simulators for the small fry, a sheath of racing results and a small counter for taking bets on the ponies. One of the waiters seated us at one end of a relatively small communal table next to a picture window that gave us a view of a hill overdeveloped with houses and the sea several yards away. It was tight quarters pretty much, with little leeway if you needed to get out and go to the bathroom.

As bouillabaisse is a one-dish meal, our waiter soon brought out a “poele” filled with cooked fish. Given my place on the opposite side of the table and the quickness with which the waiter returned to the kitchen, all I manage was a fleeting glance. He then reappeared with a tureen of the fish soup, a plateful of toasted bread, the “aioli” which was a golden yellow from its saffron, grated Gruyere and four garlic cloves. We found the soup thin and the flavor too redolent of saffron. However, the “aioli” was just right and without an overly garlic-taste. With another tureen of soup, a second waiter brought out the fish which were numerous in variety; about a dozen including rascasse; St. Pierre; rouget grondin ( the larger and lesser of the species;) vive ( a sandfish with stingers); congre (a snake-like fish); galinette, and a medium-size crab among them. The generosity, unfortunately, was compromised by the strong flavor of the soup. Our friend Monique, a superb Nicoise cook, hit the nail on the head when she said that because “soupe de poisson” is often made from inferior fish found on the rocks, its strong taste overwhelms the finer fish used in the bouillabaisse.

My wife judged the Maurin des Maures version no better or worse than the one best-known to Americans: that of Tetou in Golfe-Juan. I disagreed to a small extent because I found the former more generous in its variety of fish, even if the soup at Tetou was thicker and more flavorful. Also, at 48 euros a person the Maurin des Maures bouillabaisse was a relative bargain. As a locale for having the dish, I prefer the more down-to-earth and local atmosphere in Rayol more than the all-English-speaking, white tablecloth atmosphere of Tetou. Somehow valet parking and bouillabaisse don’t seem appropriate, not unlike having the option to order the dish with a lobster thrown in.

I think we all left with our expectations somewhat dashed, but to whatever extent they were, the ride home with a stop in charming Le Lavandou and through beautiful Bormes-les-Mimosas made the medium-distance excursion from Nice very worthehile. For my wife and me, it was our first good look at the Cote Varoise and its back-country, both of which were more striking than we imagined. Meanwhile our hunt for a superb bouillabaisse continues, even though it takes place in fits and starts. Marseilles will be next, I suppose.

[menton1]

Robert, thanks for this comprehensive review. We did the Var last year and found it quite lovely in spite of a spate of forest fires at the time. I don't know the town you speak of, but it sounds quite near the great towns of Grimaud, Hyeres, and even Port Grimaud to satisfy curiosity.

Dommage, I don't get TV5 on my Directv, I think it's only on DN.

On Food TV, Tyler Florence of "Tyler's Ultimate" shows the makings of a fabulous Bouillabaisse with a chef at his home just outside of Antibes, pretty close to you...

When you mention Aioli, is that often referred to as Rouille, served with the little toasts and then floated in the broth?

Also, further west along the Var coast, there is a great "fete de 6 cochons" in a little town of Allauch, near Cassis, where they roast these pigs for 18 hours in the town square and then everybody feasts on them the next day.... I think it was on 11 jan this year... Also Bormes has that great mimosa festival in février...

Are you back in the frigid weather yet?

Edited January 16, 2004 by menton1 (log)

[Bux]

A textbook aïoli is pretty much a very garlicky mayonnaise and rouille is pretty much aïoli with the addition of hot pepper and sometimes safron. My limted experience tells me that rouille is the traditional accompanyment to bouillabaise. Even purists seem to debate what exactly is traditional sometimes. If a restaurant is serving a safron imbued aïoli rather than a rouille or if it makes its rouille with more safron and less pepper, my guess is that the chef can tell you that's the way his grandmother did it.

[marcus]

Rouille is served traditionally with Bouillabaisse and Aioli wit Bourride. When I was in Marseilles in the Spring, a number of Bouillabaisse specialists were serving both with both dishes, so it doesn't seem to be a major issue. I'm pretty well convinced that based on personal experience along with extensive research, that l'Epuisette in Marseilles is currently serving the best traditional Bouillabaisse. I will also say, that although very good it didn't blow me away.

[Bux]

"Rouille is served traditionally with Bouillabaisse and Aioli wit Bourride."

This is what I've been told by those who ought to know about tradition, bouillabaisse and bourride, but as Marcus points out, those who are carrying on the Marseille traditions by making a living selling bouillabaisse, don't seem to make these distinctions. I'm wondering if bouillabiasse just isn't what it used to be, if it's a matter that the hype is more than any dish can live up to, or if those with memories of past bouillabaisses are too focused on a particular version of a dish that's basically one that's never had a single absolute recipe.

I suspect that for many of us, our first bouillabaisse may set the standard. My first bouillabaisse was had in Marseille at a rather moderate middle class restaurant and was a simple affair of two of three fishes and soup served apart from each other in two courses sometime in the mid sixties. As anyone can verify, that's when French cooking was French. Okay, I could put a smiley there, but food is invariably tied to the culture and time is essential as place. The dish I had was probably not the most complex version nor the best one available at the time, but it has for me the stamp of authenticity because of its place in my history.

[pirate]

I must admit I've never had good bouillabaise, even at Michelin starred restaurants. However I have had a superb Marmite Dieppoise, which is creamy and has fewer but distinct and delicious North Atlantic fish. I hope there are other Marmite Dieppoise enthusiasts.

[cigalechanta]

We like Chez FonFon in Marseille.

[marcus]

We like Chez FonFon in Marseille.

We had bouillabaisse at Miramar, L'Epuisette and Chez Fonfon on consecutive nights. Miramar was poor. L'Epuisette and Chez Fonfon were both very good, but the soup at L'Epuisette was clearly better, the fish about the same. L'Epuisette charged 46 euros and Chez Fonfon 40. L'Epuisette is also a step up in category in terms of setting and service.

[bleudauvergne]

Between Christmas and New Years we went for a bouillabaisse at Pothuau in Hyeres. I can't say that the experience took me over the top as fine cuisine but that was not our expectation - it was really quite a nice way to while away an afternoon, and we were not dissapointed. Our expectations are simple: adequately rich and pleasantly seasoned soup, a good rouille, and a nice variety in the fish. The restaurant is located on the water, a little retro gem of a place, not fancy, wood panelling, cool service, wrinkled tablecloths, cheap serving spoons, but all of the details covered. Guests here dress casually. At lunch, they had a full house, and everyone was there for the same thing, except the children who got heaping plates of frites and other kiddie food. They take the order by the number of people in the party, and serve the fish and potatoes on a cork plank. The fish was literally dumped on the plank, and I had to hold back on my instinct to be the food stylist and arrange them before taking the photo (I took the photo as is). The larger tables had much more spectacularly heaped planks, as our party consisted of only three people. The soup was rich, hot, and well seasoned with saffron, garlic, and paprika. The soup was refilled once during the meal. We were happy with the variety of fish, which I took upon myself to carve up throughout the meal as my husband and his childhood friend had much to catch up on. This was a lesson in the anatomy of about 6 different kinds of fish, there was a total of 16 fish on the platter (there were some little ones which were delicious), plus mussels and an ample sprinkling of calmari. The bouillabaisse here does not normally feature crab or langouste. We slowly carved our way over the course of about 3 hours through all but one last slice of eel, which we left on the plank. There was no way we could have finished the potatoes. My favorites were the St. Pierre and the Rascasse. I made a list of the fish and will add it later. Preparation of the croutons involves rubbing the cloves of garlic over them, spreading with the rouille, and topping with a sprinkle of cheese. Our meal was accompanied by a very nice rose from the region. This bouillabaisse will put you back €40 a head plus wine.

Restaurant Le Pothuau, port des salins 83400 Les Salins d'Hyères .04 94 66 40 37 (best to make a reservation one day out.)

[John Whiting]

I think we all left with our expectations somewhat dashed, but to whatever extent they were, the ride home with a stop in charming Le Lavandou . . .

←

Ah, Lavendou, once home to a Michelin-starred bouillabaisse which proved an even more negative adventure than yours:

Fifteen years ago Mary and I were in Provence for a heavenly week during which I spent the nights recording Barre Phillips and Barry Guy improvising on their bass fiddles in Barre’s Romanesque chapel. The B&B at which we stayed served wonderful dinners, but I had set my sights on the ultimate bouillabaisse experience. An hour’s drive away over the coastal mountains at Lavandou was a Michelin-starred restaurant whose listed specialty was the sacred stew. Nothing for it but to make the pilgrimage.

Arriving in good time for lunch, we learned that their bouillabaisse required twenty-four hours notice. By this time I had vowed not to be defeated, and so we made the necessary arrangements and stayed on for a well-prepared but anticlimactic set menu.

The next day, another long drive over the mountains to the coast. The occasion was already marred by my admission that the cost of a bouillabaisse for two at this gastronomic temple was 800 francs. It had better be perfect.

It wasn’t. After a long wait an enormous cauldron of over-stewed fish arrived, with large rings of tough squid and a double handful of tiny crabs, each containing about a teaspoon of meat. The broth was thin and anemic, not remotely as fishy as the soupe de poisson we regularly made at home. But the quantity seemed endless—Santa’s sack would not have served as a doggy bag.

While my stomach was swelling to meet the challenge, Mary went off to the powder room and returned looking bemused. She had just had a surreal experience. While she was combing her hair, the waiter had entered, put his arms around her waist, and started to kiss the back of her neck. She faced the quandary of the functionally mono-lingual: a high-school French qualification had not taught her what to say to an unwelcome libertin. (Today such behavior even on the Riviera would probably raise his voice by an octave.) She left immediately—he offered no resistance—and returned to a meal which was scarcely more welcome. We puzzled over what to do, if anything, and were thoroughly nonplused. Our mood was not improved when Madame at our B&B informed us that she could have done a real bouillabaisse at a fraction of the price. When the scene of our contretemps disappeared from the next Michelin, we wondered if our wanton waiter had finally been, as it were, exposed.

Edited January 5, 2005 by John Whiting (log)

[Margaret Pilgrim]

Once again, I'm late to the ball. I am so glad to see this missed thread brought back to the top.

For those of you who fly United to France, you will be able to see Carte Postale Gourmande episodes on channel 9, the French language video channel. Watching Jean-Luc and visiting the interesting kitchens and dining rooms he ferrets out is, to me, is the high point of the flight and a wonderful elide into visiting France. It is also a sweet "a bientot" on the return trip.

I am saddened to read of Robert's less than positive experience at the Del Montes'. I can only hope that the Del Montes were on annual vacation from Maurin des Maures when Robert visisted. I picked up Dédé del Monte's book, "La Cuisine Complice" at a book market last year. It is a wonderful travelog besides being an lovely source of recipes for such regional unusual specialties as liqueur de verveine, the art of croûte de sel, recipes reserved for holidays, etc.

Like Carte Postale Gourmande, perusing "La Cuisine Complice" is the next best thing to being there. It may, if Robert's meal was not a fluke, in fact be better than being there.

Pick this one up if you run across it.