One of the most refreshing things in life is its constant renewal. Just when you thing "I've been around the block a few times, surely I know a thing or two", something shows up to let you know (in no uncertain terms) that you are starting over from square one. The first time I went to France with my husband, I had finished my Masters degree in French and teaching. As we veered off the beaten path, it fell to me to translate the menu when there wasn't one in English. There is simply nothing more humbling than trying to decipher a French menu! As early as French 101 you learn useful terms such as "poisson", and "viande", and yet these were only mere categories. My six years of university French did not prepare me to describe any of the dishes printed beneath those titles. Sure, I knew a few regional specialties, but apart from a crude translation, I was unsure what would arrive on my plate. Bouillabaisse, we had learned, is fish soup. Or is it?

As I traveled throughout France, I was more at ease with the familiar dishes that showed up over and over. It was the specialties, however, that piqued my interest, and a slow brewing obsession began. The humble origins ... the traditions ... the people who continue to shape its evolution ... French cuisine is a living history that truly nourishes us, and on a daily basis! Take that, Mona Lisa! Personally, discovering regional dishes is one of the most satisfying parts of traveling, and yes, takes me back to square one each time.
When we became part-time Niçois residents, I realized that I had a lot to learn about Provençal dishes. I could no longer fake it with half-baked translations. How could Bouillabaisse be "fish soup" when the menu also had a dish called "soupe aux poissons"? I started my research.
Humble Beginnings

Bouillabaisse originated in the ancient fishing ports of Marseille. Local fishermen would create a hearty stew from the less desirable fish of the day; those that wouldn't sell at the market. They added a fragrant broth and spices, and over time a kind of loose, unofficial recipe was formed. There must be several varieties of fresh fish, all from the Mediterranean, and it usually includes red rascasse (a bony rockfish), sea robin, conger eel, mullet, gilt-head bream, turbot, monkfish and hake. Sometimes (but not always) shellfish like mussels and shrimp are added. The broth is made from the fish bones and vegetables, tomatoes, onion, garlic, fennel, olive oil, and saffron. ("Fish soup" can contain any kind of fish, from anywhere, and there is no specific recipe for the broth. )
A Gastronomic Experience
Now that I knew the basics, it was time for a proper tasting. I had ordered bouillabaisse at restaurants before, but I had not yet experienced the real delicacy. Provençal friends invited us to join them at Chez Camille, where they had enjoyed this exquisite dish since childhood.
While there are many iconic restaurants serving bouillabaisse in Marseille (including Chez Fonfon, among others), it was in Ramatuelle, near St Tropez, where we joined our friends at Chez Camille for the best of the best.

Pulling into the parking lot, the restaurant's facade is as humble as the origins of its prized dish. Perhaps it is to hide the secret from those who simply wander by? Once you cross the threshold, you are transported into a Mediterranean oasis, filled with a feast for the senses. Classy, luxurious and yet breezy and beachy, the atmosphere set the stage for something quite spectacular. The carefully appointed blue, white and wood invited the sea and sky inside, as if on a luxury yacht.

The copper cauldrons simmering over open fire in the front entrance enveloped the entire restaurant with a warm, salty aroma.

Walking to our table, we experienced more of the colors, textures and scents from the sea.
There was a bit of ceremony to the experience as a whole team of servers was assigned to our education and care. First came the presentation of the fish. My husband has a shellfish allergy, but we were quickly reassured that there were none in their exclusive recipe. The server explained which fish was which, then whisked the dish away for the final preparations.

Next we were brought a mysterious orange spread, bread and cheese. It was here that we discovered "rouille" - a garlicky mayonnaise enriched with saffron and cayenne pepper that we were to spread on crusty bread. We sampled a piece, then placed a few on the bottom of our bowls.

Back came the fish, all deboned and ready to eat! We added some of each to our bowls.

Finally came the piping hot broth. We ladled copious amounts into our bowls and prepared to delight! The server left a tureen of the steaming broth so we could freshen our bouillabaisse as needed. Throughout the meal, new tureens of the aromatic broth were brought to the table, so we could enjoy each bite at the proper temperature.
We noted the various spices in the broth, and the different tastes and textures of each variety of fish, as well as the chewy, satisfying bread and slight punch of garlic. The melted grated cheese somehow tied it all together. For a seemingly "light" meal of fish and broth, it was hearty and satisfying, although we did manage to find a bit of room for dessert.

Much more than experiencing a traditional dish, this was a communal, culinary celebration - enjoyed together, as intended from its humble beginnings on the Marseille port. The recipe was crafted from fresh, local ingredients, and great care was taken to ensure the highest quality at every step.

Another dish demystified. I can confidently describe la vrai bouillabaisse, although having experienced the best of the best, will other versions measure up? Perhaps I just need to keep regular visits to Chez Camille on the calendar! Ramatuelle and Grimaud near St Tropez are always worth a detour, non? (We will explore these gems next time!)
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