Cooking at Home
Le Poisson a la Maison: An easy French recipe to get you in the mood
Snapper en Papillote still in the bag.
Fresh snapper plated and dressed.
Bastille Day may be over, but every day can be a celebration of French cooking if you do it right. With all of the rich flavors and fresh ingredients, I’m happy to oblige all year long. I just send Pandora in the direction of Edith Piaf and Ma Vie En Rose, pour myself an aperitif of some affordable bubbly and get cooking.
Now I’m by no means a professional chef, but I’d consider myself an intermediate level at-home cook. My advice is to always keep it simple and have fun with what you're making. Yes, I highly advise playing with your food.
And you can’t get much simpler than the classic Provencal dish of boiled vegetables served with homemade aioli. I like to serve it along side Snapper en Papillote (snapper cooked in parchment paper). The beauty of the two is that, honestly, they’re both pretty hard to eff up.
I’m sure in college, you wrapped a random assortment of veggies and protein in some tin foil and threw it in the oven as per Julia Child's instructions. The principle is the same when cooking Snapper en Papillote, except it has way more class when you use parchment paper and you say it in French.
When the snapper is ready, cut a hole in the parchment to release the buttery steamed perfection and slide its contents onto a plate. The juices practically beg for a baguette, so make sure to have one on hand to sop up all the buttery goodness.
For this dish, take two snapper filets, toss them in a mixture of minced parsley, thyme, black pepper and salt in a bowl. Cut two 1-foot squares of parchment paper and place the fish in the middle.
Add a few sliced tomatoes — I like camparis best for this dish— a dozen capers, a hefty helping (2-3 tablespoons) of butter and a bit of lemon zest. Fold the parchment paper tightly and bake in a 350 degree oven for just under 20 minutes. Make sure to get all the rest of the preparations ready while the fish bakes so you don't leave it resting too long after it's done.
To accompany the dish, I recommend using whatever leftover farmer’s market veggies you’ve got in your pantry. I prefer to use new potatoes, chopped carrots and French beans. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Throw in the potatoes. Three minutes later, add large chunks of carrot and in another three minutes add the beans. When a total of 10 minutes has elapsed, your vegetables should be done.
Traditionally, aioli is painstakingly emulsified by an old French woman using an heirloom, rustic stone mortar and pestle. If you have one of these ladies set up in your kitchen, yell at her in French and she’ll make you some.
If not, start by mincing and mashing a few garlic cloves with a pinch of salt. Whisk a couple of egg yolks and few teaspoons of lemon juice and a dab of Dijon mustard. Add the garlic. Pour yourself roughly half a cup of olive oil and add a very small amount. Whisk until it is all incorporated. If the mixture separates, don’t panic, just keep whipping that whisk until it comes back together. It should be creamy and rich. Feel free to mix in more Dijon or lemon juice depending on how you like it.
When the snapper is ready, cut a hole in the parchment to release the buttery steamed perfection and slide its contents onto a plate. The juices practically beg for a baguette, so make sure to have one on hand to sop up all the buttery goodness.
You don’t have to wait for the snapper to eat your vegetables, but they should only be consumed after being covered liberally in aioli. You should also be drinking wine liberally. I recommend a crisp chardonnay; not to dry, not too sweet.
Most importantly, before you sit down to eat anything, it is essential that you throw on a fitted striped shirt, a red neckerchief and a beret. I swear it enhances the flavors of the food. Combined with the Edith Piaf and all the wine, you'll be in the mood to go create your own artsy indie film, or at least jet off to Paris for more romantic food encounters.
Bon appetit!
