Hearty fish stew lets cooks improvise

More than a dozen years ago when my brother John was visiting from his home on the Mississippi gulf coast, I set out a pot of fish stew on the table, showing off my international flair.

I had recently spent a few weeks traveling throughout France and had stumbled upon the dish at the old port in Marseilles in southern France, where fish dishes reign supreme. A local specialty is a stew known as bouillabaisse, which in English roughly means boil and simmer, with "bouillir" meaning boil and "abaisser" meaning to lower or turn down.

Over the years, bouillabaisse has evolved into a dramatic dish, but as the great Julia Child once said, it originated as a simple fisherman's soup, using the day's catch. In that vein, the stew is flavored with lots of garlic, plus the root vegetable fennel or fennel seeds, which impart a licoricelike flavor. A grating of orange peel is often added, and sometimes a pinch of saffron (which also flavors paella) adds an exotic note.

The heart of the soup is an array of fish and seafood, sometimes up to a half-dozen varieties simmered in a highly flavored tomato-laced broth, a concoction that is as improvisational as jazz.

But like good music, this fish stew is not without rhyme or reason -- or ritual. First the seafood is removed from the broth and kept warm. The broth is then served as a first course with a rust-colored mayonnaise made with red peppers, called rouille.

A tablespoon or so of the mayonnaise is stirred into the broth, a grating of hard cheese, such as Gruyère, Parmesan or Romano is sprinkled on, and the toasted bread is passed. The fish follows, served on warm plates or in shallow bowls.

I remember making the dish for my brother's visit and setting the table on a late fall Saturday evening, starting off the meal with a light salad.

The fish broth and red mayonnaise followed, which I served with a basket of homemade buttermilk biscuits, a down-home touch.

(I also like this broth with a nice wedge of cornbread made from scratch with coarse-grain cornmeal.)

The seafood was next, accompanied by a bowl of brown rice, which is a favorite in this kitchen, although in France, boiled potatoes are preferred with the dish.

My guests dug in, and after a moment's silence, my brother turned to me and said, "Baby sister, this is one of the best seafood gumbos I have ever eaten."

We all laughed; John is an expert gumbomaker.

I thought of this gathering during a recent visit to France, where a friend, who hails from West Africa, set the table with a delicious pot of bouillabaisse.

As usual, the dish was delicious, and I sat listening to my friend's endless sing-song chatter, thinking how all of these delectable seafood concoctions are similar, whether created in Louisiana or the Caribbean or West Africa or the south of France, or outside of Paris.

And they are all chock-full of healthful fish, a nutritionist's delight.

As the winter hawk makes its way toward my New York home, the delightful stew will warm up my kitchen, offering a virtual bowl of perpetual sunshine and cherished memories.

Joyce White is the author of "Brown Sugar" and "Soul Food." She lives in New York City.