skinny girls & mayonnaise

Like I’ve said before — when it comes to dinner, we’re a theme family. And often a theme evolves around random happenings on my shopping route.

Reading all the various comments to my recent post on oyster bars got me in the mood, of course, for oysters. So at my Wednesday farmer’s market, I picked up a dozen oysters from the (somewhat) local aquaculture guys as well as, among other things, a head of frisee lettuce, two duck eggs and a fennel bulb. I remembered that I had a nice chunk of stinky cheese in the fridge, and thought perhaps I had the makings of a French night, some night soon.

Frisee

I eyed some beautiful fresh sardines at the Japanese market later in the day. But there was rain in the forecast, and sardines are a food best eaten fresh off the grill. So I passed. A short while later, at the supermarket, I bought some shrimp with the heads on to make stuffed shiitake mushrooms for an Asian dinner I had in mind for some future evening. They were a great deal, so I bought an extra pound. And my mind turned toward shrimp bisque.

When I was a pre-teen, I spent a summer in Europe with my family. Half the trip was spent in the south of France, in Montpellier, which served as a launch point for various destinations in Provence, on the Riviera and in Spain. I remember consuming strange and eye-opening seafoods in places like Nice, Grasse and La Grande Motte — my parents still retell in vivid detail the story of their shock as my little sister and I dug into a large bowl of fruits de mer that resembled a tide pool. And I remember Marseille being a dirty, vaguely intimidating city. We weren’t there long, and that was more than long enough.

I would like to revisit it today. I would head to the fish market and shop. And then I would tuck into a gritty seafood restaurant on the waterfront for a bowl of fish soup — much the same way I settled into a stall off the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo for a breakfast of sashimi and beer at 7 a.m. (When in Rome…) That would be the first of many days in that city, immersing myself in all things briny and of the sea.

I like to sometimes recreate the dining experiences of cities at home — Venice, Italy; Havana, Cuba; Tokyo… and yes, spontaneously, Marseille. My wife’s mother likes to drink pastis — a liqueur native to Marseille — as an aperitif. I like it too, so I picked up a bottle one day for the liquor cabinet. On the designated French evening, I added half a fennel bulb to my shrimp bisque, which gave it a lovely taste of anise. Inspired, I added some pastis to the soup. It tasted like the south of France, like Marseille, and I had my theme. In addition to the bisque, we had a crusty bread with some runny burgundy cheese, a dozen oysters with ginger mignonette and frisee aux lardons — frilly lettuce with pancetta and vinaigrette — and alternated between wine and pastis in our glasses. If it would be some time before I could live out my fish fantasy in Marseille proper, perhaps a good ol’ theme evening could redeem the city for now.

I’ve already got a shrimp bisque recipe on the blog. But it’s more a straightforward East Coast number. And like many of the best things in life, two is better than one.

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Bisque de crevettes
serves 4

1 lb. medium to large shrimp, with heads on
1 onion
1/2 bulb fennel
1 bay leaf
1 leek, white part only
2 medium potatoes, peeled
1 tbsp. tomato paste
1 tbsp. flour
1 tbsp. butter
1/4 cup pastis or other anise-flavored liquor
1 cup cream
salt & pepper to taste

Place shrimp, onion, bay leaf and fennel in 2 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook for 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove shrimp, cover and continue to cook for 20 minutes more. Let soup cool.

Separate the heads of the shrimp from the tails and discard. Remove shells from tails, make a slit down the back with a paring knife, and rinse under cold water to remove veins. Set tails aside.

Strain the soup broth through a fine sieve, discarding vegetables. Wipe out pot and return soup. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and add the peeled potatoes and the leek. Cook for 20 minutes and remove from heat. Let cool.

While the soup is cooling, make a beurre maníe by combining the flour and butter into a paste. Set aside. Using a fork, shred the shrimp tail meat into two or three pieces per tail. Set aside.

Place the cooled soup in a blender and puree, including the potatoes and leek, until smooth. Return to soup pot and heat over medium to a simmer. Stir in tomato paste and salt and pepper to taste (soup will probably require at least a teaspoon to a tablespoon of salt). Add beurre maníe, pastis and cream, stirring to incorporate, and continue simmering until thickened, another 10-20 minutes. Toss in the shrimp just before serving.