Moules de Bouchots – the Rolls Royce of mussels

Moules de Bouchot and Éclade des Moules – an introduction to fine mussel dining

Following close on the heels of oysters, an irresistible oxymoron, come mussels. The renowned mussels of this region are the “moules de bouchot”. A “bouchot” is a wooden support used for the “élevage” of mussels.This will normally be a stake of oak or chestnut, 2-6 metres in length, still encased in bark, positioned firmly in the sand or mudflats. Bouchots are arranged in rows of 50 -100 metres in areas that will be completely uncovered at low tide. Because the mussels on the bouchots can benefit from the sun between the tides, they tend to have stronger shells. The mussels produced in this way have deep black shells, tender, plump orange meat and are packed with flavour. Legend has it that an Irishman, Patrick Walton, was shipwrecked in the Bay d’Aiguillon in 1235. To keep body and soul together he planted stakes with nets between them to catch seabirds for food. It did not takes him long to notice that he was catching more shellfish than birds. The mussel spore attached itself naturally to the stakes he had fixed in the sand, so much so that he joined the gap between them with wicker work, which was soon covered in growing mussels. Apparently this structure has the ancient Irish name of “bout choat” from which was derived the French “bouchot”. The system used nowadays is similar but more intensive. Rather than waiting for the mussels to arrive, the “bouchots” are seeded with ropes covered in mussel larvae that are protected by netting, and allowed to grow with the benefit of sun and sea. These non-pareil mussels have a season from June to January. Heat is the only essential in preparing these gifts of nature for the table. Once washed, sorted and bearded, they need no more than to be put in a pan with a lid over a hot flame for about 5 or 6 minutes. Tip them straight into bowls, and feast on them with bread and wine. There are countless recipes for mussels with wine, cream or indeed with a curried sauce, as in the popular Mouclade of the Charente. None of these is better, to my mind, than the simple method that I have outlined before. There is another method for which I have high hopes. I have not yet tried it, but friends have told me that it is excellent. This dish is a large-scale mussel feast and delights in the name of “l’éclade des moules”. The “éclade des moules”is a Charentais recipe which has very demanding rules in its structure and method of cooking. It should be mentioned that this dish needs to be cooked outdoors. This is a dish to be eaten in a group, and one should allow 500gms of mussels per person. The mussels must be cleaned, but only roughly debearded as the fire will complete the job. You will need a large flat piece of wood as a base on which to place the mussels – something in the region of 80 x 45 cms. Drive the point of a large nail into the centre of the wood to act as a support for the first row of mussels. The first three mussels are placed against the nail, large opening side downwards, in a triangle. The remaining mussels are carefully placed in an ever expanding flat formation on the wood base to create the appearance of one huge shell. This is in turn covered with a very deep layer of dry pine needles, which are plentiful in the pine forests along the coast and on the islands. The dry pine needles are ignited, and the flames leap upwards in a spectacular fashion. The fire will burn for 2 or 3 minutes leaving the mussels covered in hot, pine scented ash. This is the reason for placing the mussels with their opening end facing downwards! Waving a stiff piece of cardboard over the remains of the pyre will blow away most of the ash, leaving the fragrant mussels to be eaten. Now dig in, but be prepared to get dirty.

The classic dish of Moules Marinières is also amongst my favourites.

moules marinières

serves 4

I.5 kg moules de bouchot                                                                         a glass of dry white wine

40 gm unsalted butter                                                                             a bunch of flat parsley

40 gm chopped shallots                                                                            black pepper

 Wash the mussels under cold running water, and remove the beards. Put the mussels, butter, shallots, chopped parsley and wine in a pan, cover and cook over a fast flame. When the mussels are open, ladle them into bowls. Some home made chips are an essential addition to this feast.

Le plateau des fruits de mer – a dish for all seasons

The term “cuisine bourgeoise” has become very fashionable. I understand it as defining very good ingredients that have been lovingly, yet simply prepared. The Plateau de Fruits de Mer is a good example of such food, as is the fact that it is eaten all year round. Le plateau des fruits de mer is equally essential to Christmas and New Year as it is to balmy summer days by the sea. The fact that it may well be served in a grotesque ceramic boat is neither here nor there. The French have the extraordinary ability to display the alpha and the omega of style simultaneously. The sight of several generations of a family sitting round a restaurant table covered in white linen, or even white paper, upon which are displayed the elevated trays of the freshest seafood is a defining moment. It suggests unity, harmony and the pleasure of a shared experience.

a good Fruits de Mer for 4 people would contain:

24 oysters                                                                            1kg clams

8 sea urchins                                                                         800gms coques/cockles

pink shrimps                                                                         lemons

grey shrimps                                                                         red wine vinegar with shallots

16 langoustines                                                                      mayonnaise

2 crabs                                                                                    rye bread

400gms bigorneaux/whelks                                                unsalted butter

1kg bulots/winkles                                                                seaweed

I’ve often seen families of sixteen people, or more, seated at a long table on the terrace of a restaurant. Parents, grand parents, children, grand children, uncles and aunts are all there. The group will be enjoying aperitifs of Pastis or Kir or any one of the aromatic drinks beloved by the French, such as Lillet. There is a sense of anticipation. Waiters appear carrying large round metal dishes brimming with fresh seafood and carefully place them on the metal support frames that are already in position. Critical eyes are quickly appraising quality and quantity. The waiters continue to place small white china bowls of mayonnaise, with which to anoint the crabs and langoustines, or in which to dip the whelks. There are also the shallow bowls of red wine vinegar and sliced shallot for the oysters. Chilled Muscadet, Sancerre or Charentais white wine will be poured into waiting glasses. Butter, which only makes rare appearances on a French dining table, is liberally daubed on slices of dark rye bread. There is laughter and chatter; the scene is set. Hands reach out to take their first choice of oyster, crab or langoustine and suddenly a sense of concentration pervades the gathering. Eating, and most importantly, enjoying seafood entails having certain manual skills. The ability to remove every edible part from a crab needs determination, and a clear knowledge of the beast. Which parts are to be discarded, and which to be savoured between asides to neighbours and sips of chilled wine. Releasing an oyster from its anchorage in the shell without reducing it into a grey mush, adding a spoonful of vinegar shallot condiment and raising the brimming shell to your lips for the final moment is another tour de main. Corks studded with thick pins are placed at strategic places around the table. These will be wielded like tiny rapiers to extract the “bigorneaux” from their shiny black convoluted shells. Bulots need a vigorous twist of the pin to remove them from their shell, before dipping them into a swirl of mayonnaise. More courageous souls will be using small spoons to carefully lift out the perfumed orange flesh from black spiked sea urchins. This theatre is acted out in near silence. Mouths are full and minds are locked into the problems of separating the delicious morsels from their submarine armour. The once immaculately laid table is now scattered with the detritus of cracked claws and empty shells, surmounted by crumpled napkins. Strange implements, which are uncannily similar to surgical tools, protrude from the ruins of cracked pink shells, which were once crabs. The silence is now broken as animated conversation breaks out between the group. Here is the opportunity to talk about family before confronting the taxing decisions concerning cheese and dessert. There’s a long afternoon ahead.

Maquereau au vin blanc … a good summer dish.

mackerel

The French named the gooseberry as”groseille à maquereau” for a good reason. Mackerel needs strong flavours, so the sharpness of gooseberries, sorrel, mustard or white wine become perfect accompaniments to this handsome fish. However, freshness should be the first consideration when purchasing mackerel. The freshness should shine out in the brightness of the eyes and the firmness of the flesh. Mackerel should be bought from a good fishmonger, not in a polystyrene container from a supermarket. The less you do to this fish the better. Simply make some slashes in each side of the fish, to ensure the heat gets to the thicker parts, and put it under a hot grill for about 5 minutes on each side,or until the skin of the fish looks crisp and golden. I love to eat these fish with slices of pain aux céreales and unsalted butter. A good glass of Muscadet sur Lie also hits the spot. Jane Grigson recommends mustard butter that I love.

 Mustard butter

Cream a large tablespoon of Dijon mustard into 120gms of unsalted butter, and season with salt and black pepper.

 

However, my favourite mackerel recipe is:

maquereau au vin blanc – serves 4

12 fillets of mackerel – ask your fishmonger.

3 carrots peeled and finely sliced

1 sweet onion (Roscoff if possible) peeled and thinly sliced

1 bottle of Muscadet sur Lie

1 lemon finely sliced

thyme leaves and bay leaf

salt and crushed peppercorns

a splash of cider vinegar

1/ Put all the ingredients, except the mackerel fillets, in low sided sauteuse. Bring to the boil, and reduce by half.

2/ Put the fillets into the court bouillon, and turn off the heat.

3/ Leave the fillets  in the court bouillon until cold. Lift them out with a slotted spoon and place them in china dish.

4/ Refrigerate for at least two days before eating with grilled bread and butter, with a good glass of Muscadet.

Le Bouffis or a good reason to go to war..

bouffis or smoked herring

 The herring has been amongst the most important sources of food for Europe over the centuries. Julius Caesar fed his legions with preserved herrings, in mediaeval England it became the centre of the ecclesiastical diet and the rights to fish the herring were one of the principal causes of the 100 Years war with France. From the beginning of the 20th Century, the herring made fortunes for the owners of fishing fleets in the North Sea and on the French and English coasts of the Channel.It also fed the poor, virtually becoming a currency amongst the least privileged. In Boulogne and other nearby ports, there are still “fêtes” for the arrival of herrings in November. These are often cooked in the streets on a “braise” and eaten simply with bread and wine. Smoked herrings, however, are my favourite. I have always enjoyed kippers, jugged, grilled or even sliced and eaten like smoked salmon. Since living in France I have discovered the “bouffis” for which I have a predilection.Unlike a kipper which is cut in half and gutted before smoking, the bouffis is left whole to preserve the “onctuosité”, a  word that loses its descriptive sentiment in translation, of the flesh.

harengs pommes à l’huile

serves 4

2 bouffis                                                                                olive oil

500gms new waxy potatoes                                              vinaigrette

a glass of white wine                                                           salt and black pepper

3 shallots

1/Remove the skin of the “bouffis” by pouring boiling water over the fish.  Separate the fillets after removing the head and tail. Put the fillets in a dish; bathe them in olive oil and sprinkle with some finely sliced shallots.

2/Boil the new potatoes in their skins for 20-25 minutes. Lift off their skins when they are cool enough, and cut in thick slices. Pour the white wine over them whilst they are still warm, and season with salt and pepper. Give them a good stir.

3. Place the sliced potatoes on a plate. Sprinkle the potatoes with good vinaigrette and top with a fillet of bouffis.

Fish, Crustaceans and Shellfish – baked dorade

This is the first post of a series of recipes, notes and essays on the subject of seafood and the pleasure that it gives me.

sea bream or dorade

The European sea bream is a very plentiful fish. It prefers cool waters to the very cold seas of the North and SouthAtlantic. The firm white flesh of this fish makes it suitable for a multitude of recipes. Sea bream is very good grilled whole, stuffed with fennel and butter, or roasted in an oven with tomatoes and chilli. I love this recipe in which the fish is cooked “en papillote”.

baked sea bream

serves 4

1 sea bream of around 500gms                                            a bunch of flat parsley, chopped

a good handful of stoned black olives                                    olive oil

2 cloves of garlic, sliced                                                           sea salt and black pepper

20 cherry tomatoes

1/ Clean the fish under running water and pat dry. Place the fish on a large sheet of baking parchment. Make sure the paper is large enough to completely wrap the fish, with enough left over to seal the package completely.

2/ Season the inside of the fish and stuff with the olives, sliced garlic and parsley. Drizzle olive oil over the stuffed fish, and scatter the cherry tomatoes over it.

3/ Close the package and seal it thoroughly. Place the package in a roasting tray and put it into a preheated oven of 180C.

4/ Cook for about 30 minutes to ensure the fish is cooked through and that the tomatoes are really sticky.

5/ Remove from the oven, opening the paper at the table. Serve directly from the dish onto hot plates.

To market, to market to buy not only a fat pig….

Markets are part of my life in France. There will be one in a nearby town or village on most days of the week. They are not a novelty item, adding a touch of colour for visitors, but a wonderful source of delicious produce, and an important source of income for the artisan producers. Markets are not cheap, indeed quite the contrary, therefore I emulate local housewives in their careful inspection and choice of purchase. I buy less, but I buy what I have chosen, not what I have been given. Food does not need to be pretty, perfectly formed or standardised in any other way. It needs to have been nurtured and respected. Over the last 9 years I have frequented the same set of markets as a source of imagery and discovery, as well as a source of food. Each visit is so rewarding in that I rarely come away empty handed. It may well be an unexpected picture, a new ingredient, or a snippet of information from a stallholder that changes my way of cooking. I like the way that I can touch the ingredients on the stalls, and choose the particular ones that I prefer. There is an expectation that the customer will want to make a physical selection, as opposed to the idea of displaying good merchandise, which cannot be selected, whilst surreptitiously serving the customer with a mixture of good and sub standard produce.

The concept of “market” is successful here because it fulfills basic needs, and not because it is regarded as a luxury or a picturesque event - except in the holiday season, when the producers can make some profit, which word is not often heard in rural France. This may be because the French play their cards very close to their chests when it comes to declaring earnings. Profit would only be taken by the State, so mercifully they earn nothing. When I think of markets, the name of Fergus Henderson springs to mind. His concept of “head to tail” eating is clearly reflected in the markets that I visit. Ears, noses, feet, tails and brains share space with eels, snails and frogs. The most grotesque ingredients become sublime dishes when prepared by people who respect the animals that they have reared, and the bounty provided by nature in their particular area. Carnivore and vegetarian face the same curious choices. The most delicious roasted beetroots that I have ever tasted have the appearance of rotten, blackened lumps. One of our clients, on seeing these unsightly lumps, called me over to say that he had found what appeared to be a stall with the biggest black truffles that he had ever seen. I mentioned to him that, had they been black truffles, the armed guards surrounding the stall would have been a give away. The fruit and vegetables that I see in the markets here have the most appealing and mouth watering appearance. There are always stalls filled with the simplest floppy lettuces, some pale yellow frisées, and some darker leaved varieties. All are sparkling fresh with splashes of wet earth on their leaves, and not a cellophane bag in sight. Other vegetables depend on the season for their appearance. Late summer heralds the appearance of the most wonderful tomatoes. The stalls are laden with boxes of these misshapen fruit in an hallucinating range of colours. The common denominator is the unexpected fullness of flavour and the lack of seeds and wateriness. These tomatoes slice like meat giving credibility to the nomenclature “coeur de boeuf”.There are two distinct parts to the larger markets in France. There will be the main covered market, known as Les Halles, and the outside area, which may be a terrace or may well spread through the streets of some small towns. The two markets that I visit mostfrequently are those of Niort and La Rochelle. Both of these adhere to the principle of Halles and terrace. The exterior food stalls will be run principally by small holders, or “maraichers”. The “maraichers” cultivate their produce in the Marais Poitevin. This is a vast tract of land spreading from La Rochelle to Niort,with an area of nearly 1000km², that was reclaimed from the sea by monks in the 12 Century. The alluvium from the sea created an incredibly fertile soil making it the perfect market garden. There will also be stalls selling eels from the marshes, which provide the nightmarish spectacle of eels being thrown alive onto the hot coals. The market is indeed red in tooth and claw. Artisan cheese makers, with huge wheels of mountain cheeses that are as expensive as they are mouth wateringly delicious, offer slices to taste to sweep away any financial acumen. Sometimes I will see an old man, sittingon a wicker chair. his only produce being a box of “petits gris”snails. He is a proud of those as the cheesemaker is of his produce. I make a point of visiting a particular stall at Niort which sells small bunches of fresh herbs, neatly tied with string to make perfect green bouquets. La Rochelle has a strong link with the Basque country, which means that stalls covered with garlands of Piments d’Espelette. These are superb chilies that were introduced from the New World in the 16C and are now only cultivated in the northern territory of the Basque people. They are ground into a red pepper that it is an excellent condiment. Whilst the exterior stallholders are peripatetic, maybe appearing in 3 or 4 different markets during a week, those inside the Halles are of a more permanent nature. Some of the stalls are branches of a business that will exist elsewhere in the market town or in the area. Here you will find specialists who may only deal in mushrooms, or foie gras or something as arcane as angelica. I love the spice stalls with there colour and scent. Ranks of glazed terracotta bowls brimming with oil shiny olives of every hue and flavour. In the centre Niort Halles there is a small traditional bar/restaurant. The menu will always be straightforward. An “onglet sauce échalotes” or a “saucisse Morteau”. Good coffee and tough vin de table. I have not as yet eaten there, but I love walking through taking surreptitious pictures. The flower stalls rule the centre whilst the extreme northern end of the Halles is the sole preserve of fishmongers. There is a sweet freshness about these stalls. Customers are knowledgeable and demanding. There is is a complete section devoted to poultry in all its forms. Everything is purposeful, such as a group of three poultry merchants burning the stubble off plucked birds. Bakers and cheese merchants are well represented. There are stalls that only sell goat cheeses. However, there may well be 30 or 40 different goat cheeses. In both Niort and La Rochelle there are cheese merchants who delight in telling me that there are over 3,000 French cheeses. I probably only buy about 10 different cheeses over the year which gives me a lot to look forward to.

Simply Fed

Introduction

There is a wonderfully simple piece of advice from the pen of Bernard Malamud – “You write by sitting down and writing” – which is what I have been doing for the last few months. This book grows, and I am never sure if it is finished. This may be because of the fact that each time I sit down to write, the very words that I am writing inspire me to get up out of my chair to take a photograph or to cook something. The book is about food, photography and France. This being the case there is no real beginning or end to the book as the three subjects are limitless. I could follow in the steps of the painter John Bratby whose style included very thick impasto and of whom, it was said, when not sure about a painting would weigh it to decide whether it was finished or not. This would not be an ideal decision making system with weightless, computer generated pages.

My aim has been to produce a book which includes short pieces on daily life, photographs of food and France, together with notes and recipes relating to the food that I love to cook for friends, clients and ourselves. This is not a cookery book, although it certainly has many recipes. nor is it a guidebook or photography textbook. It is an attempt to whet your appetite for the flavours for this part of France where my wife, Jenny, and I have lived for nearly 10 years. During those years I feel as though the scales have fallen from my eyes allowing me to enjoy a simpler way of living and eating.

Roger Stowell April 2011