The Politics of Fish Soup

Someone once explained that faculty politics are so vicious precisely because the stakes are so small. The same could be said for fish soup.

How else do you explain the controversy over how to make something as elemental as bouillabaisse? The experts will tell you exactly which fish must be in the mix. According to “Larousse Gastronomique,” they’re rascasse, chapon, saint-pierre, conger eel, loup, red mullet, rouquier, whiting, sea-perch, spiny lobster, crabs and other shellfish. (Of course, in Southern California you’ll be able to find only lotte [monkfish], saint-pierre [John Dory], spiny lobster and crabs, so this is all academic.)

The truly hard core will come to blows over whether you should include a piece of orange peel. A bit of orange peel!

You might expect that kind of thing from the French, but we are not free from fish soup controversy in this country. I recently came across some old copies of the Bohemian Life newsletter (named for the now-defunct Southern California liquor distributorship, not the lifestyle). In the March 1941 number, editor Savarin St. Sure (really Phil Townsend Hanna), waxes enthusiastic about cioppino and includes a fairly innocuous, very 1940s-type cioppino recipe.

Big mistake. A couple of issues later, he was called to task by Vincent Quartararo, a longtime fisherman, who insisted (with “a snort of derision”) that for a true cioppino, you must put the crab in first, creating a kind of steaming rack for the rest of the fish. Any idiot knows that. (Come to think of it, that sounds like an interesting technique; I’ll have to try it.)

When it comes to food, though, I’m much more interested in flavor than in precisely authentic formulas. And as it turns out, that attitude seems to be the key to making a good fish soup.

I am not alone. Despite all of the debate about bouillabaisse among the gourmet pretenders, in his definitive work on Provencal cooking “The Wonderful Food of Provence” (Houghton Mifflin, 1968), Jean-Noel Escudier, who has an entire chapter on bouillabaisse, notes:

“Each brings to his own version his special touch. To say that there is no specific recipe for preparing bouillabaisse is nonsense. The truth is that there are many variants to be found all up and down the coast, each claiming to be the sole authentic version.”

Hear, hear. After half a dozen or so fish soup experiments over the last couple of months, I’m convinced that the only way to make a bad one is to stick to a specific recipe. Southern California seafood markets are so erratic that no shopping list of fish will all be available in dependably good condition at the same time. You’re much better off grouping the fish into a couple of loose categories and making do with what you find.

I made soup with fish that came from farmers’ markets, fish stores, Asian groceries and regular supermarkets. No two places carried the same assortment of fish, yet each soup turned out well. The subtle variations in flavor only made it more interesting.

As far as I’m concerned, the only real necessity to making a good fish soup is to begin with a good fish broth. (Mai^tre Escudier approves: “With this method, the flavor of the broth is intensified.”) The secret to that is finding good, small, bony rock cod, sold whole. This is not just a matter of flavor, but above all of texture: The bonier the fish, the thicker the broth. Make sure the fish is very fresh. With rock cod, look for clear, bulging eyes and firm flesh.

If you can find sculpin (which is very close to rascasse), so much the better, but it’s not necessary. Once I could find only a big old 5-pound monster rock cod. I hacked it up to fit it in the pot, and I don’t think anyone felt cheated.

The rock cod is the only ingredient that may be hard to find in your local supermarket. Check out a decent Asian market; these days there seems to be one at least fairly close to wherever you live. If anyone tries to tell you salmon frames (skeletons) will work just as well, don’t ever take cooking advice from that person again. Salmon is very oily and its flavor is too distinctive for a background broth.

Simmer that whole fish for 45 minutes or so with the usual vegetables in a mixture of white wine and water and you will end up with a rich, flavorful broth. In fact, if you make it the day before and refrigerate it, you’ll probably find you’ve created a sort of nice, soft fish Jell-O.

Be sure that when you’re straining the broth, you press hard to get all the liquid. Once I even ran the fish and vegetable debris through a food mill, adding broth to keep it workable. The result was actually a little over-extracted for me. There was a slight harsh calcium flavor from the bones when the broth was tasted by itself, though a little extra onion in the second cooking smoothed it out nicely.

While the broth is cooking, prepare the other fish, all of which can be bought in fillets (about the only way you’ll find them in our markets). Those fish should be cut into edible-sized pieces (a little bigger than bite-size) and marinated in olive oil, garlic and white wine.

You can monkey with the proportions to get the mix you like best. I think the best flavor comes with roughly 50% more mild-flavored lean fish than strong-flavored oily--say, three pounds to two. Adjust as you see fit, but use as many varieties of saltwater fish as you can find. The only type I wouldn’t use is salmon, for the reason stated above.

Of course, I would never use any really expensive fish, either, since everything ends up getting cooked together. Using sushi-grade tuna would be like putting filet mignon in your beef stew.

Although some traditional fish soup recipes forbid the addition of shellfish, their briny sweetness is the finishing touch that really makes this particular fish soup special. I’ve found a surprising variety of choices at local markets, including little black mussels, Manila clams and even tiny cockles.

Proving that--just as in faculty warfare--when it comes to making a good fish soup, the only rule is that there are no rules at all.

*

FISH SOUP

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 onions, chopped

6 cloves garlic, minced

Crushed red pepper

1 carrot, chopped

2 stalks celery, chopped

1/4 green bell pepper in one piece

1 pound plum tomatoes, seeded and chopped but left unpeeled

4 to 5 pounds whole bony fish, such as sculpin or other rock fish

1 sprig thyme

1 bunch parsley, stems only

1 (750-milliliter) bottle dry white wine

2 cups water

Salt and pepper

2 pounds firm-fleshed oily fish fillets (tuna, swordfish, shark, mackerel)

3 pounds firm-fleshed lean fish fillets (rock fish, red snapper, ocean perch, striped bass, cod, monkfish)

2 pounds mixed small shellfish

1/4 cup slivered basil

Combine 2 tablespoons olive oil and 1 chopped onion in bottom of wide soup pot. Cook over medium-high heat until onion softens and becomes translucent, about 3 minutes. Add 2 minced cloves garlic and 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add carrot and celery and cook until color of carrot brightens, about 5 minutes. Add bell pepper and tomatoes and cook until tomatoes give up liquid, about 5 minutes.

Add whole bony fish to pot (if fish is too large to fit, cut in pieces). Add thyme and parsley and all but about 1/4 cup white wine. Add enough water to cover, up to 2 cups. Bring to boil over high heat, reduce heat to simmer and cook 45 minutes.

Transfer contents of soup pot to colander or heavy strainer over mixing bowl, firmly pressing fish and vegetables with back of wooden spoon to extract all of broth. Add salt and pepper to taste, being conservative with salt. Discard fish and vegetable solids and refrigerate broth until ready to use.

While broth is cooking, cut oily fillets into 2-inch pieces. Salt and pepper lightly and place in plastic bag with 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 clove minced garlic, dash crushed red pepper and 2 tablespoons reserved white wine. Seal tightly and knead bag lightly to mix ingredients well. Refrigerate until ready to use. Do same with lean fish fillets.

About 45 minutes before serving, combine remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, remaining chopped onion and remaining minced garlic in bottom of large, table-ready soup pot. Heat until soft and fragrant, about 5 minutes. Add strained broth and bring to rolling boil. About 20 minutes before serving, add oily fish to pot. After 5 minutes, add lean fish. After 5 more minutes, add shellfish and cover tightly (addition of fish should prevent broth from returning to boil).

As soon as shellfish open, remove from heat. Add slivered basil, stir to combine and let stand 5 minutes until ready to serve.

10 servings. Each serving:

601 calories; 278 mg sodium; 183 mg cholesterol; 18 grams fat; 12 grams carbohydrates; 83 grams protein; 0.69 gram fiber.

* Le Flambadore covered casserole in photo above from Maison Sud, Brentwood.