Recipes featured in this chapter:
Seared Scallops (Coquilles Saint-Jacques) with
Peas (Pois), Bacon, and Mint (Menthe)
Lobster (Homard) à l’Armoricaine
Simple Shellfish (Fruits de Mer) Bouillabaisse
Crab (Crabe), Lamb’s Lettuce (Mâche), and Avocado
(Avocat) with Grapefruit (Pamplemousse) Vinaigrette
Seared Salmon (Saumon) with Fennel (Fenouil), Olives, and Orange
As we were swooning over a fabulous meal of crêpes with our dear friends Andie and Georges in Paris one evening, talk turned to travel in Northwest France. Tim and I had never been there, but after they told us that Normandy was the source of France’s best mussels, oysters, and scallops, we were ready to pack up and go that minute! A plan was born, and a few days later we crammed into their little blue Peugeot and drove about three hours to the northwest of France. It was a brilliantly sunny day, and the scenery, once we left the freeway, was gorgeously French. Fat cattle lazing under ancient trees trembling in the breeze, gorgeous châteaux with ornate gates guarding tree-lined drives and gardens, and rolling pastures where horses grazed swept past our windows.
Honfleur sparkled in the midday sun. The harbor town has been a transit port and a reliable source of seafood since the twelfth century. Gorgeous yachts awaited their owners’ next outing, and tourists strolled and snapped photos along cobblestone lanes. Tall, slate-covered, storybook houses stood shoulder to shoulder along the quay, and sidewalk cafés with colorful awnings, with their menus written in chalk on sandwich boards, beckoned to us. The billboards offered shrimp, lobster, conch, periwinkle, mussels, and, of course, oysters prepared every way imaginable. We chose a café in a shady spot with a view of the busy harbor where we toasted our good fortune and friendship with crisp rosé.
Even in tourist areas, French meals proceed at a leisurely pace, and we slowly worked our way through several courses on that lazy afternoon. The oysters on the half shell, piled on platters of coarse salt, were so fresh that they quivered when we squirted them with lemon juice. Next, we feasted on individual cauldrons of tender mussels and sopped up the herbed liquor with chunks of crusty bread. Crisp frites appeared in wire cones lined with greasy paper.
When the waiter removed the mountain of mussel shells from the center of the table, we settled back in our shady corner to share more stories and laughter. It was an afternoon I hoped would never end.
After lunch, we drove into the countryside in search of our B&B and we were thrilled when we saw the long driveway, lined with imposing old trees, leading to a graceful two-story gray stone mansion. French blue shutters framed windows with billowing white curtains. We were to spend several nights in this dreamy setting.
We toured the beaches of the Normandy invasion by day, stopping at every village’s farmers’ market, where Andie would chat with the cheese and butter makers and then translate for us. They scooped creamy butter out of tubs and then patted it by hand into rectangular shapes for the customers, wrapping and weighing each package as it was sold. The fresh-caught wares from local fishermen rested on beds of ice, and we slurped the briny oyster samples they offered. The best and closest market to our digs was in Saint-Lô. The stalls and colorful umbrellas of the market sprawled through the whole town. In the nearby town of Torigni-sur-Vire there’s a market on Monday mornings that includes livestock auctions. Pigs, cows, calves, bulls, and sheep come under the auctioneer’s hammer there every week.
Each night we dined in a different nearby country town. Our B&B host at La Beauconniere, a hilarious Englishman, entertained us every evening at the cocktail hour with his outrageous stories, and he made reservations each day for us in nearby family-run restaurants. We would never have discovered these out-of-the-way gems on our own. Every one of them was cozy and quaint with a welcoming open fireplace, and their cheerful staffs made us feel as if we were dinner guests in a French home. Our dinners lasted for hours as we devoured local mussels, oysters, scallops, and lamb. We kibitzed with waitstaff (usually sons and daughters of the owner), and enjoyed reliving the day’s adventures as we dined. We were thrilled with the high quality of ingredients and creative talents of those excellent chefs. And, of course, superb French wine elevated our experience with every sip.
The last morning we filled an ice chest with our treasured butter treats and shellfish from that morning’s catch into Andie’s tiny Peugeot, and back to Paris we went. We had so much fun that on the return trip we began to plan our next adventure—to the South of France, where bouillabaisse originated and the Côte d’Azur basked in its Mediterranean sunshine.
Of course, the optimum fish-shopping experience is right at the harbor where the gulls swoop, the riggings slap against the sailboats’ masts, and fishermen in rubber boots and aprons hurl their catch onto tables where they’ll prepare your order before your eyes. Places like Villefranche-sur-Mer or Toulon in the South of France or Calais or Deauville on the Atlantic Coast are among the more than 50 seaports where the country’s seafood first hits its shores. Freshwater fish like trout or bream are plentiful too, and fish can be purchased at almost every farmers’ market in the country. There are also fish shops in most towns where proprietors put their fish bins right on the sidewalk with their wares nestled in huge piles of shaved ice. Even the supermarché offers fish in their cold shelves, but it’s so easy to find genuine fishmongers who can offer advice and prepare your fish to order that you really should make the effort to buy it at a shop.
If you’re in Marseille, you can get all the fish you could dream of at the picturesque Le Marché de la Pêche. This outdoor fish market is held every morning from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m., and you’ll be rubbing shoulders with local restaurateurs as they choose their ingredients for the day. You can find the catch of the day fresh off the boat: red mullet, bream, grouper, and more. They’ll weigh and clean it for you while you wait. If you want an even more exciting fish experience, you can visit the wholesale fish market. It’s in Saumaty on the road toward the town of L’Estaque. You can get there on the 35 bus. Not far from the fish market is Les Halles de la Major, a bustling covered food market where you’ll find high-end regional produce, meat, fish, herbs, and a tapas bar. It’s right next to the Musée Regards de Provence.
When you’ve decided to take the plunge and interact with a real French fishmonger instead of grabbing a plastic tray from the supermarché, take your time and pay attention to the shop’s clientele. Whether you’re at the farmers’ market, at the harbor, or a shop in town, the place with the longest line of waiting customers is sure to have the best reputation. Also, a lot of traffic means that the fish is moving out quickly, and chances are it hasn’t been languishing in a case for a day or two.
Fresh fish should look almost alive. Their eyes will be bright and clear, and the flesh firm to the touch. The fish should smell sweet, too, like fresh ocean air. Any fishy odor means the fish is just not fresh enough.
The nose knows! If you smell ammonia, skip the shellfish and change your menu. If you’re cooking bivalves, like clams, oysters, mussels, or scallops, do not purchase any that are open. Toss any that do not open after cooking. Be sure to look for shell damage. If an oyster shell is chipped, cracked, or open, don’t buy it. When you tap the shell, if it’s alive, it should tighten up. When shucked, the oyster meat should be pale, plump, and glossy. If it’s a dull tan color, discard it. But if it’s green, dig in. The greenish color of verte oysters comes from a particular type of blue diatom (a type of single-celled algae) that those oysters eat. It’s sought after in France so grab some if you find them. We can teach you how to shuck oysters on page 42.
Scallop season in Northwest France is from October 1st to the end of May. They come live in the shell, so all the rules of shellfish freshness apply. If you are worried about trying to shuck your scallops, ask your fishmonger to do it for you.
Since they are usually alive when you purchase them, scallops come with their coral, or roe, attached. We don’t see this often in America because the coral is highly perishable and is discarded in processing. That’s a shame because it’s tart and delicious, although it’s an acquired taste for some. You can cook the scallops with the roe still attached, or you can detach it and cook it separately to use as a beautiful coral garnish.
Many Americans avoid scallops because they’ve only eaten overcooked, rubbery renditions. It’s all in the preparation. When cooking them, rely on the touch test. If they are mushy, they are undercooked. If they are firm, they are overcooked. If you follow Deborah’s instructions carefully, you’ll achieve the perfect doneness, and you’ll be a scallop fan forever.
Ideally, you should buy fish the day you’re going to cook it, but sometimes life gets in the way. Say you receive a glamorous dinner invitation that you simply can’t resist and that fish you just brought home is staring at you with its bright, glassy eyes, giving you guilt for not doing something with it. Because fish is one of the most perishable ingredients on the planet, you need to find a way to preserve it without ruining its delicate flavor, freshness, and texture.
Here’s your solution: Rinse and dry the fish, and then place it in a single layer in a large sealable plastic bag. Put a bed of ice on a pan, put the fish on top, and cover with more ice. The goal is to keep the fish as cold and as dry as possible. The bacteria that spoils fish thrives in moisture.
Put the pan on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Don’t skimp on the ice. If your pan is too shallow and you’re worried that melted ice will spill all over your fridge, put the ice in plastic sealable bags as well.
Even with these storage precautions, you should cook and eat the fish within two days. Remember that not all types of fish spoil equally. The oilier the fish, the faster it goes off.
When storing oysters and other live shellfish, do not seal them in plastic as you would other fish because they are alive, and doing this will probably kill the poor things. Put them on ice and cover them with a moist towel. They will keep well chilled for a maximum of two days in your refrigerator.
ABOUT LOBSTER
Bream: la daurade
Cod: la morue
Clam: le clam
Cockle: la coque
Crab: le crabe
Crayfish: l’écrevisse
Cuttlefish: la seiche
Haddock: l’aiglefin
Halibut: le flétan
Lobster: l’homard
Langoustine: la langoustine (This tastes like a cross between a small lobster and a shrimp.)
Mackerel: la maquereau
Monkfish: la lotte
Mussel: la moule
Octopus: la pieuvre
Oyster: l’huître
Razor shell: le couteau
Salmon: la saumon
Sardine: la sardine
Scallop: la coquille Saint-Jacques
Sea bass: le bar
Shrimp/prawn: la crevette
Skate: la raie
Squid: le calmar
Swordfish: l’espadon
Trout: la truite
Tuna: le thon
Whiting: le merlan
Bone: l’arête
Boned: sans l’arête
Cleaned: préparé
Fillet: le filet
Filleted: en filets
Fresh: frais
Frozen: surgelé
Ice: la glace
Loin: la longe
Salted: salé
Scaled: écaille
Skinned: sans peau
Smoked: fumé
Steak: la tranche
Tail: la queue
DEBORAH’S SIMPLE but tasty recipe for Lobster (Homard) à l’Armoricaine (see page 179) takes me back to Normandy’s La Marée restaurant, which has been serving dinners in Grandcamp-Maisy, right by Pointe du Hoc, for 70 years.
Seared Scallops (Coquilles Saint-Jacques) with Peas (Pois), Bacon, and Mint (Menthe)
serves 4
In the sixties, I attended college in Oklahoma. A chef courageously opened the city’s first French restaurant and I was thrilled to accept an invitation. A waiter sporting a long apron and a Gallic accent, either of which may or may not have been authentic, served me coquilles Saint-Jacques presented in a real shell. In an instant, I was hopelessly hooked on what was then called “continental” cuisine. The elegance of French dining, even in an Oklahoma strip mall, made an indelible impression. Preparing Deborah’s beautiful recipe always transports me back to that memorable meal.
Ingredients
8 large fresh sea scallops (two per person)
Sea salt
Pepper
1½ cups (375 ml) fresh or frozen peas
2 pieces of bacon, cut into ¼-inch (6 mm) pieces, or lardons
1 shallot, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon (5 ml) lemon juice
Piment d’espelette or paprika to taste
2 tablespoons (30 g) minced fresh mint
Equipment
Knife for chopping
Large sauté pan
Measuring cups and spoons
Strainer (or see Variations, Ideas, Suggestions)
Method
1. Blot the scallops on both sides with a paper towel to dry. Salt and pepper them. In a sauté pan, simmer the fresh or still frozen peas in lightly salted water until just tender. Be careful not to overcook. You don’t want them to turn dark green because they will be mushy and will have lost their bright flavor. Strain and set aside.
2. Wipe the moisture out of the pan and over medium heat, sauté the bacon until the fat starts to render. Add the shallots. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook until the bacon is brown and the shallots are nicely caramelized. Fish the bacon and shallots out of the pan and add to the peas. Season the pea mixture with salt, lemon juice, piment d’espelette, and half of the mint.
3. With the grease still in the pan, turn the heat to high. When it’s very hot and smoking a bit, add the scallops, making sure they are not touching. Sear them about 2 minutes on each side. Don’t overcook. They should be brown on the outside and still translucent in the very center. If they don’t all fit in the pan, then sear them in two batches.
4. Put two scallops on each plate. Quickly toss the pea mixture into the pan to reheat for a few seconds. Spoon the mixture over the scallops and sprinkle with more mint.
Pairing Semillon-Sauvignon Blend or Muscadet
Variations, Ideas, Suggestions
• It’s almost impossible to find fresh peas unless you go to the farm the day they are picked or grow them yourself. So there is no shame in purchasing good quality frozen ones. Make sure they are small and bright green.
• If you don’t have a strainer, use a cheese grater against the edge of the tilted pot or pan to catch the peas as you release the water.
Lobster (Homard ) à l’Armoricaine
serves 4
This is an appetizer portion of a classic dish from France’s northwest. While the name might seem to reference America, and most people actually call the sauce Américaine, it is thought to be derived from Armorica, the ancient name for the northwestern part of France, which means “place by the sea.”
Ingredients
4 tablespoons (60 ml) plus 2 tablespoons (30 ml) butter, divided
1 tablespoon (15 ml) olive oil
1 shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup (250 ml) mead or white wine
2 medium heirloom tomatoes, chopped into small pieces, or one 14-ounce (450 ml) can of good quality crushed tomatoes
¾ cup (180 ml) fish or chicken stock
1 tablespoon (15 g) finely chopped parsley
1 teaspoon (5 g) finely chopped thyme
2 tablespoons (30 g) finely chopped tarragon, divided
¼ teaspoon (1.5 g) piment d’espelette or paprika or cayenne
4 small homards (lobsters), removed from the shells (ask your fishmonger to do this, but if your French doesn’t stretch that far, try the time-honored method of pantomime)
2 ounces (60 ml) Calvados or Cognac
¼ cup (62 ml) cream
1 teaspoon (5 ml) pastis (optional)
Salt
Pepper
Equipment
Knife for chopping
Large sauté pan
Measuring cups and spoons
Medium sauté pan
Sieve or mesh strainer (optional)
Method
1. Melt the butter and oil in a large sauté pan. Add the shallots and garlic and cook on medium heat until lightly caramelized, about 10 minutes. Deglaze with the mead.
2. Add the tomatoes and simmer for 10 minutes until the liquid is reduced by about half.
3. Add the stock, parsley, thyme, half of the tarragon, and the piment d’espelette to the pan and simmer about 15 minutes, until reduced and thickened a bit. Strain the sauce into another saucepan, pushing on the solids. This results in a more refined dish. Or just keep it rustic and continue!
4. In a medium sauté pan, add 2 tablespoons (30 ml) of butter on medium-high heat. When bubbling, add the lobster meat and sauté on each side until pink and the tails start to curl. Do not cook all the way through. Deglaze with the Calvados.
5. Scrape the lobster, Calvados, and any other pan juices and bits into the sauce. Add cream and the pastis if using and let simmer on low about another 5 minutes, until the lobster is just done. Taste and add salt and pepper as necessary. Don’t season until the end, though, as the lobster and the stock will probably be salty enough.
6. Serve in a bowl with the remaining tarragon and crusty bread.
Pairing Tavel Rosé or Bandol Rosé
Tip: To remove the lobster meat from the shell: Bring a pot of lightly salted water (large enough to fit the lobster tails) to a boil. Place the lobster in the water and simmer until they are just beginning to curl. Do not cook them all the way. Remove and rinse with cold water. With scissors, cut along the bottom side or belly side of the lobster. Split open the tail and remove the meat. Remove the claw meat by cracking them with a mallet or the back of a large knife first. Don’t forget the joints.
Simple Shellfish (Fruits de Mer) Bouillabaisse
serves 4 to 6
This recipe is a simplified version of a traditional Provençal fish stew that originated in that exotic city, Marseille. Don’t let the long list of ingredients intimidate you. It’s really effortless to assemble and so satisfying that you’ll make it often.
Here’s what to do when you come home from the fish market.
Ingredients
3 tablespoons (45 ml) olive oil or vegetable oil
1 large onion, thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, smashed and chopped
1 small fennel bulb, thinly sliced
½ cup (125 ml) dry white wine
One 14-ounce (450 ml) can of whole, peeled tomatoes with juice, or 4 large in-season ripe tomatoes, cored and roughly chopped
6 cups (1.5 L) seafood stock, or 3 cups (.75 L) clam juice and 3 cups (.75 L) chicken or vegetable stock
1 strip orange zest
4 tablespoons (30 ml) orange juice
¼ teaspoon (1 g) saffron, or ½ teaspoon (2 g) paprika
2 pounds (900 g) fresh clams or cockles
1 pound (450 g) shrimp or langoustine, peeled
1 pound (450 g) mussels
Sea salt
1 bunch parsley, chopped
4 to 6 tablespoons (60–90 ml) rouille (optional)
1 lemon, cut into six wedges
Equipment
Can opener (optional)
Knife for slicing and chopping
Large heavy pot
Measuring cups and spoons
Paring knife
Method
1. Heat the oil in a large heavy pot. Sauté onion, garlic, and fennel over medium heat until light golden brown, about 8 minutes or so. Pour in white wine to deglaze.
2. Add the tomatoes, stock, zest, orange juice, and saffron and bring to a boil, simmering on a light boil until the liquid reduces by about half. This will take between 15 and 20 minutes.
3. Add shellfish and cook until the shells are open. Discard any shellfish that didn’t open. Fish out the orange peel. Taste and add salt only if needed.
4. Serve in bowls and top with parsley and rouille, if using, plus a lemon wedge on the side.
5. Serve with a baguette, of course!
Pairing A dry rosé from Provence or a Sauvignon Blanc
Variations, Ideas, Suggestions
• Feel free to substitute any of the shellfish with another kind of fish. If you are adding other fish, cut it into chunks and add it after the shellfish has been in the pot for about 2 minutes.
• Rouille, a sauce or condiment consisting of olive oil, breadcrumbs, garlic, saffron, and cayenne pepper, is available in jars for you to purchase, or if you have lots of time and patience, you can make it yourself.
• Saffron is traditional in bouillabaisse but very expensive. Even though some people will say it’s not bouillabaisse without the saffron, don’t worry if you leave it out. It will still be delicious.
Crab (Crabe), Lamb’s Lettuce (Mâche), and Avocado (Avocat) with Grapefruit (Pamplemousse) Vinaigrette
serves 4
Crab is available almost everywhere in France, but buying it fresh from the fishermen on the Côte d’Azur will make it taste even better. Here’s a tip about buying crab: avoid fresh-picked crabmeat that smells off in any way. Blueing, a term that describes when pockets of blue or gray form in the meat, can happen with previously frozen crab that wasn’t stored properly. In this case, the texture and flavor will suffer. Assuming you’re starting with wonderful, fresh-cooked crab, here’s a simple, delicious way to prepare it.
Ingredients
Vinaigrette
Makes about 1¼ cups (30 ml)
¼ cup (60 ml) juice from grapefruit of any color (preferably ruby)
1½ tablespoons (22 ml) cider vinegar or red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon (15 ml) honey
¼ cup (60 ml) olive oil
Sea salt
Pepper
Salad
1 pound (450 g) fresh-cooked crab meat, out of its shell from the fish vendor
3 green onions, roots removed and thinly sliced on the diagonal
2 cups (225 g) mâche (this tender lettuce with its tiny dark green leaves is beloved in France and can also be found in the United States in upscale markets)
1 ripe avocado, peeled, pitted, and cut into 12 wedges
¼ cup (32 g) crushed toasted hazelnuts
2 teaspoons (10 g) chopped tarragon
Equipment
Knife for chopping and slicing
Measuring cups and spoons
Medium-sized bowl or salad bowl
Whisk
Method
1. For the vinaigrette: Whisk together all of the vinaigrette ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings. Some grapefruits might be more tart than others so you may need more honey or oil, or if the grapefruit is mild, you may need more juice.
2. For the salad: Gently mix the crab with the green onion slices.
3. Toss the mâche with a couple tablespoons of the vinaigrette and place on four plates. Divide and arrange the avocado slices on the mâche and the crab in the middle. Drizzle with more dressing, about 2 tablespoons per plate. Sprinkle with hazelnuts and tarragon.
Variations, Ideas, Suggestions
• You can also include grapefruit sections in this salad if you have some left over after making the vinaigrette.
• Try this with seared scallops instead of crab.
SHOPPING FOR ANYTHING in France is an adventure for me, and although I revel in the beautiful displays of fruits and vegetables, herbs and poultry, it’s the fishmongers’ displays that thrill me the most. The incredibly fresh, glistening whole fish trying to make contact with their bright eyes, the octopus legs just waiting for the barbecue, the fat pink shrimps that will land on my hors d’oeuvre platter, always make me stop for a look.
Seared Salmon (Saumon) with Fennel (Fenouil ), Olives, and Orange
serves 4
The rich brininess of the olives and the sweet high notes of the orange complement each other and make the salmon stand out. This is an appetizer or light lunch. Just double everything if it’s for dinner.
Ingredients
1 tablespoon (15 ml) olive oil
1½ teaspoons (8 ml) vinegar
1½ teaspoons (8 ml) orange juice
1 pound (450 g) salmon, skin and bones removed
Sea salt
Pepper
1 orange, peeled and sliced
2 tablespoons (30 ml) vegetable oil, divided
2 tablespoons (30 ml) butter, divided
1 head fennel, trimmed and thinly sliced
8–12 olives, pitted and coarsely chopped (we suggest lucques, Picholine, or Niçoise)
2 teaspoons (10 ml) roughly chopped fennel fronds
Equipment
Knife for chopping and slicing
Large sauté pan
Measuring spoons
Method
1. Mix together the olive oil, vinegar, and orange juice.
2. Cut the salmon into four equal pieces. Season with salt and pepper. Cut orange slices in half.
3. In a sauté pan, heat 1 tablespoon (15 ml) of the oil and 1 tablespoon (15 ml) of the butter on high heat until bubbling. Sear the fennel about 1 minute on each side. Remove from pan and toss with orange slices, olives, and dressing.
4. Turn heat down on the pan to medium and add remaining oil and butter. Sprinkle salt in the pan and cook the salmon pieces about 3 minutes on each side. Check for doneness either by making a small incision in the center (the salmon should be pink and still somewhat translucent in the very center) or by pressing on the fish to check for firmness. Do not overcook.
5. Divide the fennel mixture onto four appetizer or salad-sized plates, top with salmon, and sprinkle with fennel fronds.
Pairing Chenin Blanc or Pinot Noir
FISHY FRENCH FESTIVALS