30-minute Cotriade - “Brittany Fish Stew”

Introducing you to the younger and cooler northern cousin of Bouillabaisse…

Cotriade. AKA Brittany Fish Stew.

Three of my classes I’m taking abroad are fully culinary-based, and my favorite by a longshot is Mediterranean Cuisines and Cuisines from Around the World. Every Monday from 2-7 PM, I find myself in an industrial-style kitchen cooking traditional recipes native of that week’s designated country. Then, the next day in class, I learn about the history, culture, and anthropology of that country’s gastronomy. Each Monday, I am faced with a new challenge or mental block (usually concerning a language barrier or a feeling of overwhelmingness because I once again forgot the Spanish term for bay leaf - it’s laurel by the way). Nonetheless, I push through, and each Monday, I become more enchanced than the last.  

 One of my assignments outside of the kitchen in this class was a practical and theoretical analysis of a country’s cuisine; in my case, the similarities and differences found in the two opposing poles of France. I had to first analyze the variety in agriculture, local ingredients, traditional regional foods, and cuisine style between France’s northern region of Normandy and Bretagne (or “Brittany” in English) and its southern region of Provence and Roussillon. I then had to put these differences to trial by cooking two meals exemplifying the two’s gastronomy. I know, I know… what boring work I’m forced to endure… like I’ve said before, going back to “normal” school after this is going to be the worst culture shock of all. 

Out of all the options of various countries and cuisines, I picked this topic for one reason: fish stew. My affinity for fish stew dates years back when I was in some foreign city with my parents (I can’t remember where), but we were at a nice French restaurant, and I was stuck between ordering two items on the menu. The waitress, who, looking back now, probably only did this because she was swamped with tables and didn’t have time for the raging indecisiveness of my 10ish-year old self, kindly brought me half-portions of both items. I still thought it was the coolest thing ever, and to this day I try this tactic out on servers to see if it'll work again. It hasn’t. 

I don’t even remember the second item I ordered, because all I can remember is that damn bouillabaisse. It was the first time I ever tried the dish, and 11 or so odd years later my mouth still waters at the mere thought of it. 

Bouillabaisse is a traditional French fish stew of tomatoes, saffron, a fumet (essentially a very flavorful fish broth made with rockfish), and a rouille. Aromatics like orange peel, fennel, bay leaf, and saffron add to its uniquely divine taste and stunning color. 

So, I chose this topic with fish stew in mind, though only aware of bouillabaisse. With a little research, the stars aligned, and I found out that the northern region of France has a variation of its own adapted from bouillabaisse. Cotriade flaunts ingredients more local to Bretagne and Normandy. It is richer and simpler in flavor, lacking the hearty tomato and spice-based broth of its southern alternative. It can be made with a variety of fish such as mackerel, hake, eels, herring, red mullet, or mussels, in accompaniment with vegetables such as onions, garlic, leeks, and one of its greatest distinguishments between the two stews—potatoes. All of these ingredients are tied together with a natural fish stock, citrus, and butter-based broth. Cotriade lacks the rouille that bouillabaisse is garnished with, making it much milder in taste, but I love for how its simplicity of flavor allows the quality of its ingredients to shine. Naturally, this kind of white or “natural” broth can be harder to flavor, so steeping a bouquet garni of flat leaf parsley, thyme, and a bay leaf in it is a must.

Quick history on the stew (well bouillabaisse, not cotriade) of the hour, since I did have to write an 8-page analysis on it (it’s ridiculously hard to come up with 8 pages worth of information about fish stew, by the way): 

Bouillabaisse stems from incredibly humble beginnings. Originating in Provence during the 18th century and first known as a “poor man’s meal,” it typically included leftover fish scraps that fishermen had in their nets from the day’s work. Greek mythology tells that Venus, the Roman goddess of love, created bouillabaisse to put her husband, Vulcan, to sleep so she could be with her other lover, but it was more likely created by these sailors who worked on fishing boats. In the beginning, the stew relied on heavy spices to mask the flavor of what was not the best quality fish; this is how the flavorful broth that Bouillabaisse is vastly known and cherished for came to exist. Today, however, bouillabaisse is a meal that Marseille and the southern region of France takes pride in on the quality of ingredients used. Over time, it has evolved into quite the opposite of its origins. Now one of the most luxurious seafood dishes to exist, it is not only found in every upscale restaurant in the port of Marseille but also in high-end restaurants worldwide. Some versions can cost up to 200 euros for a meal serving two, although less-traditional versions typically run under 50 euros and still portray the delectable flavors of southern France. 

And yes, I did just copy and paste that straight from my paper.

Since that first time trying bouillabaisse, I’ve been obsessed with fish stew of any kind. San Francisco’s version of Cioppino, Italy’s version of Cacciucco, Spain’s version of Zarzuela de Pescado y Mariscos, the list goes on, and I can now add Cotriade to it.

One of the main differences in the two stews—appearance-wise—is that a well-made cotriade has a large quantity of fish and less broth compared to bouillabaisse’s equal appreciation for both broth and fish. Cotriade is arguably the easier and less expensive of the two to make, making it that much more appealing for home cooks. This version in particular only takes half an hour to whip up.

Although Bouillabaisse will always have reign over a large piece of my heart, after making and trying both side by side for this assignment, I have to admit cotriade is my favorite of the two. I don’t know if it’s the herbaceous simplicity of the silky-buttery broth or the hearty addition of leeks and potatoes—or a combination of the two—that makes it so irresistible, but that truly is the first word that comes to mind when I think of it. Irresistible. 

Now all I need is to try it professionally and traditionally prepared. Until then, it’s a good thing this. recipe is ridiculously easy and adaptable to make.

Ingredients: 

• - 32 oz. fish stock

• - Butter, for sautéing

• - 1/2 onion

• - 2 cloves garlic

• - 1 filet cod

• - 100 grams mussels

• - 1⁄2 leek

• - 2 large Yukon gold potato, washed and peeled

• - 1 bay leaf

• - 1 bunch each fresh parsley and thyme, tied into a bundle

• - 1⁄2 lemon, juice

• - Salt and pepper to taste

• - Toasted baguette, to serve

• - Thyme, for garnish

Finely dice the onion, mince the garlic, chop the leeks into half-circles, and cut the potatoes into quarter bite-sized chunks. Melt a generous amount of butter over medium-high heat until frothy, but still light in color. Sauté the onion, garlic, and leeks until softened. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Once softened, add the potatoes and cook until slightly softened. Add the fish stock, and bundle of fresh thyme, parsley, and bay leaf. Simmer for 15 minutes, or until potatoes are almost completely softened. Add in mussels and whitefish. Continue to simmer until the mussels open up and whitefish is flaky. Salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat, finish with a squeeze of lemon juice. Garnish with lemon zest, fresh thyme, green leek, and serve with toasted baguette.