Bouilliabaise in Marseille (w/photos)

[Jenise]

The first restaurant boulliabaise of my life was served me at a restaurant in Stamford, Connecticutt circa 1980ish: a large bowl of fragrant, winey seafood broth orangeish in color that contained lobster, shrimp, clams, mussels and several chunks of boneless white fish. It was incredible and it's brothiness was a revelation after the heavy tomato-based cioppinos I knew from visits to San Francisco. The second time I ordered boulliabaise was in Marseille a few weeks ago at Chez FonFon, a restaurant famed for the dish.

You might ask, if I liked it so much, why did so much time pass between bowls? That's mostly about opportunity: I rarely see it on menus, it's messy to eat, and since my husband's allergic to mussels and clams it's not a dish I can make at home. What I never considered was making it without the bivalves which, to my surprise, is, along with the elimination of crustaceans, the method of Marseille. And apparently Marseille alone--the next major town down that coastline and a 20 or so minute drive away is Cassis where, I've been assured, boullliabaise will include the more typical array that I dare say everyone thinks of as the classic.

In Marseille we each received a bowl of broth and, separately, a long dish holding pieces of five different fish, including eel, rouget and scorpionfish and a pile of potatoes that had already been cooked in the kitchen (in the same broth). We were to take the pieces of fish and briefly reheat them by the forkful, and a roaming waiter kept our broth bowls refreshed. And when I say "our", I mean not just the two of us at our table having this dish (Bill Spohn was the other) but what was literally what 90% of the people, seemingly all French and local, in both dining rooms were also having. The cost of this dish was 50 euros each.

It was good and something that should be experienced at least once. But would I choose it over the dish I first enjoyed in Stamford? No, sorry. For one, I found the various fishes fairly similar--there was one I preferred, and one I liked least (the eel), but the other three were pretty interchangeable in texture and flavor. So I missed not just the flavor and aromas but the variety of textures other ingredients of the sea would have put on my plate--the sweetness of crustaceans and the briney chewiness of mussels and clams. And too, the principal flavor of FonFon's bouilliabaise was, by comparison, not so much fish as a heavy paprika-ness that reminded me of my Hungarian stepmother's cooking.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

FonFon is actually my third favorite bouillabaisse, Jenise.

My first-favorite Marseille style, but my third favorite. I do entirely love the restaurant itself; the location is nothing short of spectacular for me. We parked up on the roadway, then walked down from the little memorial park on the roadway, through the pathway of stairs, under the roman arch bridge, into the cove...then tromped all the way to the top room of FonFon so our window looked out over the cove and the bay and the fishing boats and the massive calanques glistening in the evening sun.

So as an experience, FonFon is tops. But it's still my third favorite bouillabaisse.

Bouillabaisse is one of the most hotly contested of dished, with everybody having their own favorite rendition. The one thing I liked about FonFon was the two rouille served, one a standard garlicky and the other a fiery peppery one (that paprika fetish you mentioned). The contrast was lovely.

And I know full well I was influenced by eating the fish I had seen that morning when we toured the Fish Market at the Vieux Port; that's the kind of experience that resonates, don't you know.

My favorite bouillabaisse was in Villefranche sur Mers, just west of Nice, a little lovely seaside village hugging the corniche with a seafood-themed French restaurant that is one of my favorites in France. And they did have the crustacean/mollusk thing going on in this one; and you're right, it makes a difference withal. (And with this one I had a perfect bottle of Cassis Blanc, about 4 years old. Magnificent combination. I usually have rose' with my bouillabaisse, but Cassis Blanc is a wonderful thing.)

My third favorite was in a restaurant in the Ventoux that the owner of our gite steered us to. She said 'the tourists don't go there; but you can." The chef apparently left the celebrity shuffle of the coast and opened a simple place---so simple it looked like it was installed in what used to be an old petrol station that had seen much better days---and was content simply to cook good meals for the locals, and have his pastis when he was through. Bouillabaisse was not always on the menu though, as he cooked it only when some particularly good fish was available and he was inspired to do it---and you had to hear about it from him the day before or you'd probably miss out (that's how long it took him to get the broth ready). It was very much the simple, rustic, country style, served without pretense or fanfare. A damn good bowl of fish soup was what it was, with a dollop of very local Provencal herbs added in to the recipe.

I can't for the life of me remember the name---but it you took me to the general vicinity, I bet I could find it again.

The second time I ordered boulliabaise was in Marseille a few weeks ago at Chez FonFon, a restaurant famed for the dish.

I've been at Chez Fonfon in September 2009 and found the fresh bouillabaise the best in comparison with other restaurants in Marseille. There was no eel with my dish, may be there was no one in the catch of the day. I had bar, monkfish, dragon head, St.Pierre and Rougets with the rouille, the garlic mayonnaise, the soup and the potatoes. Delicious.

[Jenise]

Hoke and Heinz,

Do these bring back memories?

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And Hoke, I understand about Cassis Blanc. We tasted several splendid examples of it while there.

*snif* Brings back fond ( or fon) memories.

What's really amazing is getting a chance to look at the fish in the morning at the Vieux Port---you take one look at a rascasse and you figure someone had to be realllllly hungry to eat one the first time. That is one ugly fish. But tastes good.

[Jenise]

*snif* Brings back fond ( or fon) memories.

What's really amazing is getting a chance to look at the fish in the morning at the Vieux Port---you take one look at a rascasse and you figure someone had to be realllllly hungry to eat one the first time. That is one ugly fish. But tastes good.

Wish we'd had the chance to do that. Btw, there are a lot of spectacularly beautiful fish in the rascasse family--I take it the fish you saw, though, was one of the ugly cousins, like this?

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Yeah, even uglier than that. Smaller and very, very spiny. But the fish market was way cool, with the boats pulling up to the dock and unloading their fish, and the herb sellers, and the guy selling the "snail's foot" charms. And the live octopi.

The cost of this dish was 50 euros each.

Really? You paid approximately $60 for that bowl of broth and those little bits of bony fish?
Not that I'm surprised. Some years ago we dined in Antiibes at a famous seafood restaurant and had "poisson sur la planche" which was basically several little fire-roasted fish served on a board, with some aioli and a little green salad and baguette on the side. The cost of that was, at the time, $100 per person. It was outrageous then and it still is.

[Jenise]

Really? You paid approximately $60 for that bowl of broth and those little bits of bony fish?

Yes, rather outrageous, which is why I mentioned the cost. I'm surprised you're the first one to pick up on it (but not surprised that you did). And that's all you get for your 50 Euros. Suzanne and Bob each had some four course menu, and those were only like 40 euros.