Provençal Fish Stew with Saffron and Rouille

This is the dish I think of when I remember that meal in Brittany. The fisherman brought the catch that morning. The cook did almost nothing to it. She simmered the fish in a broth scented with saffron and fennel, ladled it into deep bowls, and set out a pot of rouille and good bread. The diners applauded.

A proper fish stew begins at the market. You need fish that was swimming yesterday, fish with clear eyes and flesh that springs back when you press it. Talk to your fishmonger. Tell them what you are making. They will guide you toward what is freshest, what will hold together in a broth, what will give you the best flavor for your money.

The technique here is simple. You build a fragrant base of fennel, tomatoes, and saffron. You add good fish stock, preferably one you have made yourself from bones and heads. Then you slip in the fish and let the broth do the work. The fish poaches gently, absorbing the saffron and releasing its own essence into the liquid. Do not rush this. Do not stir too much. Let things taste of what they are.

The rouille is essential. This garlicky, saffron-tinted sauce spread on crusty bread and floated in the broth transforms each spoonful. Make it by hand with a mortar and pestle if you have one. The texture is better, and there is something right about the labor.