A nod to bouillabaisse diplomacy

Tuscany seems to be every American’s dream destination these days. The very word “Tuscany” has become a magical incantation, an evocation of all that is natural and beautiful and comforting and accessible in our modern, turbulent world.

But before Tuscany, there was Provence. Before Frances Mayes and “Under the Tuscan Sun,” there was Peter Mayle and “A Year in Provence.” Yes, Provence -- the land of Van Gogh and Cezanne, of daube and pissaladiere, of lavender-covered hillsides, open-air markets and fields filled with olive groves and perfumed by wild herbs -- once occupied the same bliss-filled niche in the American imagination now inhabited by Tuscany.

Then came what I’ve come to think of as the Italian ascendancy in this country, and everything changed -- triggered not only by the undeniable appeal of Italy and Italian food but by forces as disparate as the popularity of pizza, the high prices and stiff formality of French restaurants and the refusal of France to join President Bush’s war in Iraq.

So I wasn’t surprised when tourism officials in Provence sent four of their best chefs to Los Angeles recently to try to drum up some renewed interest in their area.

Provencal cuisine is essentially home cooking, not restaurant cooking. Most of the truly great restaurants in France are in Paris and Burgundy and Alsace and in and around Lyon. There’s not a single Michelin three-star restaurant in all of Provence.

But these chefs -- and others -- are trying to change that by modernizing the traditionally simple Provencal dishes and by augmenting the great natural bounty of the fields and waterways of Provence with products from other cultures.

This is especially true in Marseilles, where -- as M.F.K. Fisher once wrote -- freshly caught fish “have a different flavor and texture and smell ... than in any other port in the world.”

But it’s not just the local fish that distinguish la cuisine Marseillaise. Ships routinely pull into the Old Port, bringing herbs and spices and other foodstuffs from Italy, North Africa, Asia and elsewhere -- rice from Thailand, hazelnuts from Turkey, olive oil from Tunisia, saffron from Spain.

Lionel Levy, the 30-year-old chef at Une Table au Sud in Marseilles, calls his food “contemporary pan-Mediterranean,” and in a cooking demonstration at the Regency Club in Westwood with his three colleagues, he prepared and served pan-seared scallops in a celery root puree flavored with a zest of grapefruit, lemon, lime and orange.

When I told him I found the tartness of the citrus a sharp, almost shocking contrast to the sweetness of the scallop, he nodded happily and smiled and said, “I like to shock. You should taste this dish the way I make it in my restaurant, with Corsican lemons.”

Levy, whose father is Moroccan and whose mentor was Alain Ducasse, grew animated as we spoke, ticking off one “shocking” dish after another.

“In my restaurant, I make a veloute of chestnuts with sea urchin sauce,” he said. “And crostini with the liver of the rouget [red mullet] and some bone marrow. And an artichoke ice cream that looks like the heart of the artichoke, surrounded by crystallized artichoke leaves. And a tarte Tatin on which caramelized fennel takes the place of the apples, and I cover it with a sauce made from cumin and caramelized carrots. And .... “

Determinedly Provencal

I interrupted him. I’d enjoyed his scallops and his conversation. And I’d liked the Hawaiian blue prawns -- substituting for Mediterranean langoustines -- bathed in saffron butter that morning by Francis Robin of Le Mas du Soleil in Salon de Provence. And the gratin of red fruits in a zabaglione flavored with fresh thyme and Muscat de Beaume-de-Venise made by Dominique Frerard of Les Trois Forts in Marseilles.

But I was most intrigued by the fourth Provencal chef, Christian Etienne, and I wanted to speak with him before he left.

Etienne was raised in Avignon, a beautiful, ancient city surrounded by ramparts, where for the last 13 years he’s been the chef-proprietor of Restaurant Christian Etienne adjacent to the historic Palace of the Popes. (Nine popes ruled from Avignon through most of the 14th century.)

Etienne seemed to me the most determinedly Provencal of the four chefs, both in what he said and in what he cooked. Maybe that’s because I think of the tomato as the quintessential Provencal ingredient -- it’s known there as “la pomme d’amour” (the apple of love) -- and Etienne is just crazy for them.

At the Regency Club he made a tomato vinaigrette to accompany rougets flown in from France. He also served a “tomato tartare” in which the chopped-up pieces of tomato were flavored with shallots, chives and olive oil.

“I went to the Santa Monica farmers market,” he said, by way of explanation, “and the tomatoes were beautiful. They reminded me of home. So I wanted to cook with them here today.”

(As Etienne spoke, I couldn’t help thinking, boy, if he thinks the farmers market tomatoes are great in winter, he should see them -- and taste them -- in the summertime.)

Etienne grows his own tomatoes -- “30 varieties” -- on a small farm about a dozen miles from his restaurant, and every summer for the last 10 years, he’s served a seven-course all-tomato menu in his restaurant. The meal begins with diced cucumber in a tomato jelly with orange zest and concludes with a salad of strawberries, mint, tomato confit ice cream and olive oil ice cream.

I don’t usually have tomatoes -- or rougets, scallops, langoustines or zabaglione -- for breakfast, as I did the day Etienne and his colleagues put on their 10 a.m. cooking show. But as I stood there eating and talking and listening to the lilting Provencal accents, it wasn’t difficult to envision skipping an eagerly awaited return visit to the lovely house my wife and I last rented in Tuscany and going instead -- as soon as possible -- to some charming hillside village in Provence.

I love France and I love the products of Provence and I love one of its most famous dishes -- bouillabaisse. Despite all that, I’ve never been to Marseilles, the spiritual home of bouillabaisse (and France’s second-largest city, biggest port and gateway to Asia, North Africa and the Mediterranean). But the host and translator for the four chefs’ visit, Daniel Young, author of the cookbook “Made in Marseilles,” assures me that I’ll feel right at home in Marseilles -- and not only because of my Francophilia and my fondness for bouillabaisse.

“It’s a melting pot for a lot of cultures, just like Los Angeles,” he says. “The city has sizable communities of Tunisians, Algerians, Armenians, Greeks, Italians, Portuguese, Spanish and Moroccans -- among others.”

Gee, if I could get a great paella, a great bestila and a great bouillabaisse all in the same city, I’d think I’d died and gone to heaven.

*

Scallops with celery root gratin

Total time: 35 minutes

Servings: 6 first-course servings

Note: From chef Lionel Levy of Une Table au Sud.

1/2 pound celery root, peeled and diced (about 1 3/4 cups diced)

3 teaspoons combined zest from orange, lemon, lime and grapefruit, divided

1 1/4 cups milk

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/8teaspoon freshly ground white pepper

1 pinch freshly ground cumin

1 clove garlic, minced

1/4cup heavy cream

1 egg yolk, slightly beaten

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

18 large untreated scallops

1. Place the celery root, 1 teaspoon citrus zest, milk, salt, white pepper, cumin and garlic in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer. Cook until the celery root is soft, about 12 to 14 minutes. Let the mixture cool slightly then blend to a smooth puree.

2. Whip the cream until soft peaks form. Add 1 teaspoon citrus zest. Continue to beat until stiff peaks form. Stir in the egg yolk.

3. Fold the whipped cream mixture into the celery-root puree.

4. Heat the broiler. Heat the olive oil in a large nonstick saute pan. Sear the scallops for 2 minutes on each side. Remove and keep warm.

5. Divide the scallops among 6 ovenproof plates or gratin dishes. Spoon one-third cup puree-cream mixture around the scallops and on top of each. Place each dish under the broiler for 4 to 5 minutes. Garnish with the remaining teaspoon of zest. Serve immediately.

Each serving: 172 calories; 11 grams protein; 8 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 11 grams fat; 4 grams saturated fat; 71 mg. cholesterol; 334 mg. sodium.

David Shaw can be reached at david.shaw@latimes.com. To read previous “Matters of Taste” columns, please go to latimes.com/shaw-taste.