Fish Stock

If you are going to make fish stock...by george lets make fish stock!

fish stock, because 8qts was not going to be enough...up close and personalLet me begin by saying I didn't intend to have quite this much fish stock.  It has been 3 months and for heavens sake...there are still 4 qts of fish stock in the freezer!  But it all began innocently enough. 

I had just returned from Maman's lesson on how to make a Bouillabaisse.  And for something to sink in correctly I need to replicate fairly quickly.  So that week I started to think about how I could put my hands on some fish bones to make a stock.  I called my local grocery store, nope they get all their fish in already cleaned.  The nearest fish store that I know of is a good hour away.  Hmmm what is a girl to do. 

Oh!  Wait!  I run a hotel.  We have a fish guy.  Hmmmm.  I asked my cook who was doing the ordering to see if Paganos had any fish bones.  I was looking for heads and bones.  I was looking for about 5 lbs.  I was looking for Grouper or Snapper or Sea Bass or Blue fish...or...or...or.  I was NOT looking for Salmon or Tuna or Mahi, too oily.  Let me repeat:  I asked my guy to SEE if Paganos had any fish bones. 

The next thing I know, "Yolande, your fish bones will be here today." 

Wait!  Are they on a separate invoice?  What kind of bones?  I am not ready to make fish stock tonight.  I can't even leave here till late tonight.  Can you put them on hold?  Will he take a check?  Do I have cash on me? 

They arrived 30 minutes later.  They were on the same invoice.  I was going to have to reimburse the hotel.  I was going to have to find a way to get out of work at least a little bit early.  There was WAY MORE than 5 lbs. 

There were 3 fish heads with spine and tails attached.  The fish tags that were also still attached read 23.75 lbs, 28 lbs, and 26.5 lbs.  These had been some big fish, with teeth!  I borrowed a bus tub and put my fish bones in the back of the car...smelly.  I made sure there were witnesses when I paid the hotel what I owed for my fish bones...two quarters.  And I returned the bus tub full of smelly cooked fish bones the next day.  I wasn't going to put those bones in my trash to sit for 5 days till the next trash day!

So here is the first recipe for that famous Bouillabaisse.

Bouillabaisse, The Legend, The Reality

Bouillabaisse at the table

In all of our histories we have one dish that becomes legendary.  Think about it.  Even if it is just a PB&J assembled at the top of a  mountain after a 5 mile hike, or some other such situation.  We all have one dish that we made or assembled that lives forever.  In my case it was a Beef Bourguignon that I made in 1999 or 2000 while living in Alexandria.  Several friends still talk about that Bourguignon to this day.  In Maman's case it is her famous Bouillabaisse of 1975.  I have never made a bouillabaisse.  It is quite simple really, I am terrified of making it.  You see it is one of her legendary dishes.  Who wants to be compared to a legend?

That doesn't mean I don't want to learn how to make it...just that a recipe card wasn't going to do it for me.  Before I started the writing for this blog, I started thinking about the recipes I wanted to feature.  I knew that sooner or later I wanted to post about Bouillabaisse.  I wanted to tell the story of 2 couples, three kids and a French Grandmother stuck together in a little two bedroom beach cottage on Siesta Key. It was 1975 and Papa had made an agreement with Governor Hugh Gregg.  The Governor owned some land in Siesta Key Florida and wanted to open a restaurant, and he asked Papa to open and operate it for him.  It was called The Greenhouse and in later years The Summerhouse.  It recently closed after a very long run.  But first it was a construction site, where two little girls and one little boy like to fish.  The restaurant rose out of the ground with three walls of glass looking out into the lush tropical forest.  There were dining rooms on several levels, and almost every table was on a wall of glass looking out. 

Papa knew he was going to need some help so he called in one of his best friends, Andre.  Andre came down with his then wife Marguerite, their son Yann, and his mother Madame Pirio.  Madame Pirio had the dubious honor of keeping an eye on her grandson Yann (age 3), Jacqueline (age 4), and me (the almost grown up??? 8 year old).  Papa ran the kitchen, Marguerite ran the door, Maman took the upstairs dining room and Andre took the main floor.  One day I will have to tell you about waiting for the C of O, and make food that wasn't supposed to be in the restaurant dissapear.  But let me just say the restaurant was a hit!  The four of them and the staff they hired nearly didn't keep up with the demand. 

The four of them would come home to the cottage too keyed up to sleep, too exhausted to move.  Madame would be asleep in my parents room and Jaqueline and Yann would be asleep in ours.  I would sneak out to see what was going on.  They would open a bottle of wine and deal the cards to unwind while talking about what went right, what went wrong and what needed to be done the next day.  But one day the weather was right, and there was no more room in Maman's freezer for more of the little fish we would bring home.  Everyone was being lazy around the cottage and she got busy.  It was Bouillabaisse time.  All I can say is that it was one of those moments.  I don't remember as much as I should, but for the last 37 years someone mentions Maman and Bouillabaisse and  the instant response is, "...do you remember Siesta Key?"

So I talked to Maman and told her it was time to teach me.  She said okay.  Meanwhile it has taken more than a year to get my lesson. 

On a recent trip to FL for Jacqueline's award ceremony for teacher of the year (yeah Jacqueline!), Maman decided the time was right.  I have also mentioned in my writing that part of the challenge of this blog is figuring out how to measure, and time recipes for recording.  I am a genius compared to trying to track Maman as she cooks! OMG!  Not only do I now know who I get the pinch of this and a "soupcon" of that from...she is worse than I am.  AND I apologize to all my friends who have tried to record one of my recipes as I cook it, I get it. 

First she didn't want to talk to me while she was chopping and thinking about the next step.  Second when I peered over her shoulder (which should have been easy as I tower over her by a good 7 inches), she would hunch over and shoo me away.  What was up with that?  You will have to forgive some of my guesstimate. 

A great part of the fun in this lesson was having some of the philosophical discussions about the ingredients and the traditions behind Bouillabaisse. 

Lets start by reminding everyone that Bouillabaisse was developed as the fisherman's stew.  The boat would come in, and the "good" fish would go to market.  What was left became dinner for the crew.  It is also a dish from Marseilles and as a result the key ingredients and flavors come from that area.  It is redolent with olive oil, onions, fennel, tomatoes and garlic.  Today it is a dish that each family holds THEIR famous version near and dear, and all will tell you theirs is the best. 

Maman's is distinctly hers and never the same twice...here are some of the debates:

1.  She starts with a combination of leeks and onions.  Many recipes you will find agree, but some only use onions.  In the time I have spent in the south of France, I don't remember a lot of leeks.  Everywhere else, lots.  But when visiting with Tatan Yvonne, I don't remember the leeks.  Maman's answer, I like to mix them.  Okay, I can go with that.

2.  Fresh fennel or fennel seeds.  Again both.  Maman had some fresh fennel fronds that she chopped up and put in the initial stages of the cooking.  She wasn't happy with the final stock so she crushed about a teaspoon of fennel seeds and it made all the difference in the world. 

3.  White wine, or dry vermouth or Pernod.  Maman normally uses white wine.  This day she didn't have an open bottle.  I said, "Maman, two bottles in the fridge for three ladies?  I am sure we can spare a little."  She wasn't convinced it was enough????  (Might I interject we didn't finish the first bottle.)  I asked if dry vermouth would work.  She thought that an excellent idea, she uses dry vermouth in cooking fish often.  It tasted lovely here.  Mid-pour though she did comment, "Papa used to use Pernod, I never liked it as well though."  I on the other hand love Pernod in cooking, I may have to try it.

4.  La Rouille.  A rouille is a garlicy mayonnaise that binds the broth after you serve the soup.  It also packs a punch in the flavor department that finishes this dish to perfection.  But soooo many debates.  Spicy or not?  With potato or not?  To add an egg yolk or not?  A touch of lemon juice or not?  We used Harissa for the heat, the potato and the egg yolk, and a good squish of fresh lemon.  It was outstanding. 

5.  Now for the biggest debate:  What kind of fish?  There are no hard fast rules of what can go in...though there are a couple of no-no's (according to Maman). 

    a.  Flaky delicate fishes don't work well, they fall apart.  No trout, flounder, or sole. 

    b.  Salmon, tuna, and swordfish are too heavy and oily with flavors that do not work really well with the fun stuff that starts the broth.

    c.  crab is not really indigenous to the south of France, not a star in this dish.

So what does go in?  Firm fleshed white fishes that won't fall apart in your broth.  With Maman we used Cod and haddock.  You could as easily use Char, Halibut, Grouper, Snapper or Monk fish.  If you brave enough to do some fish filleting table side some small whole rockfish or snapper is also a good choice. 

Next shellfish or no?  Keep in mind that the original was the poor man's soup.  No shellfish.  But today?  Go for it.  We used some Langoustine tails, yum.  But feel free to add some shrimp, clams and mussels. 

The final outcome?  Amazing.  Thank you Maman.  Now I feel confident enough to try it at home.  As a matter of fact tomorrow night, for a table of 10.  Yikes!  If I don't get it right?  Pizza?

Update on Sunday, February 26, 2012 at 8:13PM by Yolande A.M. Lacan

So.  Last night was the dinner party and all I can say is; Damn!  I did it.  AND I didn't have to order Pizza.  Even the kids ate not only the ginormous shrimp but the fish, clams, AND the garlicy croutons dunked in the broth.  Amazing kids I might add that aren't picky eaters.  Woo-hoo to those parents. 

Notes on the above philosophical debates. 

1.  I used only onions, no leeks.

2.  I used the fennel bulb, and the fennel seeds.

3.  I went with the Pernod...sorry Maman, Papa was right, very good.

4.  La Rouille.  Spicy, check.  Potato, check.  Egg Yolk, check.  Meyers Lemon juice, check. 

5.  The Fish.  I went a little nuts.  Halibut, 2 lbs.  Perch, 2 lbs. Cod, 2lbs. Whole Red Snapper 1 small about 2.5 lbs.  Monk fish, 2lbs. Then 10 u-6 shrimp and 18 clams.  All Good.

I will do this again!  Thanks for the lesson Maman!

A year has passed...

...Since I began this project and there has been quite a bit of change in my life.  I started a new job.  I moved.  What they say are two of the most stressful occurrences in a person's life, outside of marriage, divorce, and child birth.  The job has taken over my life (not good), and the move has been got through (barely). 

Amongst the good the bad and the ugly this blog has been on the back burner, and is likely going to stay there for a bit yet.  I didn't, however, want to let this week fade away without commenting on the one year anniversary of The Innkeeper's Daughter. 

The Innkeeper's Daughter was born out of many people saying to me, "you should tell that story".  It has been a fun story to share and I look forward to being able to tell the rest of it.

It was born from my wanting to see if I could cook in a manner that would force me to document and allow others to reproduce what I have always taken for granted.  Did the recipes work for you? 

It was born from a challenge to myself.  Okay so you know just about everything there is to know about a hotel, what else can you do?  The technical side has been a mysterious journey that teaches every day.  The writing has been fun, and a new way to express myself.  The photography a serious challenge that needs so much more work. 

All in all a good start, but there is so much more I want to accomplish with this project.  When I sit down to work on this I like how it makes me feel, I just need to get the rest of my life in balance so I can continue. 

So I will be back.  I will shout it from the roof tops, and every electronic messaging service that I can think of.  I have so much more to tell you about I couldn't stop now!

"Sad Day" said Jacqueline

...and I can't help but agree. 

At 11am my new Droid beeped at me (still trying to figure out how to use the damn phone!).  Once I finally figured out that it was an email from one of Jacqueline's elementary school chums from Whitefield I became curious.  Curious was quickly followed by shock, confusion and possible sadness.  Possible because I couldn't believe the very brief question that was asked. 

"Have you heard anything about the Weathervane burning to the ground?"  NO!  WHAT?

It was quickly followed by another quick note letting me know it was the old barn not the new.  What a relief...only the old barn.  As lovely as the new barn is...it isn't where my memories are.

The old barn is the history.  The old barn is where the roots are.  The old barn has been around since sometime before 1858.  The old barn started its life as a BARN.  Housing horses for the carriages that used to be housed in what is today the Inn's main dining room. 

The Playhouse was built as a summer home for a wealthy eye doctor from Boston.  The Dr. was a She.  The family lived in the tower wing.  The Butler (or maybe housekeeper) lived over what was in the Lacan days, the front door and the rest of the servant quarters were above today's dining room.  The bar and today's "owners quarters" were built much, much later.  Now having given you this information I back track and say I only know this from what I was told.  We had old, old ledgers with much of the history of the Inn buried under layers of dust and cobweb in the second basement with packed dirt floors tucked back behind the hot water tanks.  I am ashamed to say we didn't do much to preserve the history, and I never did much to actually read them.  So what I relate now it is all just the stories I was told over the years. 

The fun history of the barn begins much later.  I mentioned pieces of it a few months ago.  But as pictures start to come through of what remains...I think back on more specific memories.  Though I am a grateful as the rest that no lives were lost, I am still so sad that this piece of history is nothing but rubble. 

Though the Sakowitz favorite seats were first row (I think A 1,3,5,and 7) my favorite seats were aisle seats on G or H.  Of knowing that my Maman was looking for me and telling the ladies in the box office that they had to send me home and trying to find a new hiding space so they couldn't find me.  Of finally figuring out that they moved the furniture with  really big magnet's from under the stage for Mouse Trap, and learning how they got down there (it was really cramped down there!).  Of the season that had the real life bats nearly driving Eliza crazy during her bath scene up on the balcony during My Fair Lady...while never making an appearance during Dracula.  That motorized bat never had the same effect that season. 

And how about Gibbs in drag?  Charlie's Aunt (you remember?  Scott Wentworth, Gibbs, snap snap Brazil "where the nuts come from"?  The evil step mother in Cinderella?  Just my favorites off the top of my head.  Of watching all the locals take their turn across the stage...Joan Lamphere as Vera in Mame, Bill Ingram being sung "Hey big spender" to in Sweet Charity (me being chased out of the theatre because I was too young to be seeing Charity), Whit Cook as the distinguished gent in every role he ever guested in.  Those who started in the '80's and still enjoy a turn on stage today, Kip Carter and Amanda Brewster, just to name a few. 

Then there were the elements.  The patches of leaky roof.  The days the actors had to scream to be heard over the rain on the roof.  The days it was so damn hot everything and everyone was damp, especially while wearing the band uniforms from Music Man, ugh.  Or a cold snap had all 232 audience members huddled close together to keep the teeth from being louder than the piano on stage.  And please, don't forget the communal style dressing rooms in which if you were smart you never stuck your feet into shoes until you had tipped them over and shaken them out. 

Of course the tons of cardboard turned into sets...often still wet when the actors went on stage.  Or Finian's Rainbow tree made out of scrap wood.  The lights that were really #10 tomato cans from Papa's kitchen.

The memories of when the actors went home and the stage belonged again to two little girls, one who couldn't wait to play on the stage and the other who was scared of the building but wasn't about to be left out of the fun. 

I sit here tonight letting the memories flood back while toasting the old barn one last time.  I hope the old drummer boy that was found above will live to grace a newer cupola.  I wish many years of continued success to the Weathervane team.  I hope the not too many years of set design and props were lost. 

I was just a kid...the thousands of actors who have spent a summer, or the theater goers who go back for one more show, anyone have a favorite memory they want to share?   

Goldilocks was here

bears in the north country

When we bought The Playhouse there was more wildlife living in Whitefield than there were people.  To tell the truth the stats on Whitefield show fairly close to zero growth from the time the village was incorporated in 1804 to their bicentennial in 2004.  I actually think they went backwards a couple dozen inhabitants, but I read the article 7 years ago and can't remember the exact numbers. 

Back to my tale: The "early birds" used to fight over the table facing the woods because the deer used to come out to nibble on the crab apples about 20 feet from those windows.  As I got older I don't remember the deer coming around. 

We also used to have nuisance visitors, namely the bears.  Now the bears were a nuisance because their favorite pass times were tipping over the dumpster annoying the hell out of Papa as he and his team had to clean up after them the next morning.  Over the years Papa tried a myriad of ways to keep them out of the dumpster.  At one point he booby trapped the dumpster with barbed wire.  He was so fed up when that didn't work he went a step further.  He "juiced" the dumpster up.  What do I mean you ask? He wired it and ran an electric current through the wires and then at the end of the night, flipped a switch to turn it "on".  I think this finally worked to some extent to discourage the bears from tipping over and emptying his dumpster.  It didn't, however, discourage them from coming to visit.

They were bold back then.  Back in my original post I told you about Papa peeling a 50# bag of onions on the back dock.  It was a regular occurrence, and occasionally he had company, the bears. They were curious and wanted to see what was going on.  They would amble closer and closer, then one night one got a little closer than Papa was comfortable with, He (the bear) was a big boy and coming closer and closer.  Papa grabbed an onion and got closer to the door, slowly.  The bear kept coming.  Papa threw the onion at the bear to distract and get himself through the door.  He hit the bear and the bear came up on his back legs in protest.  As Papa used to tell the story, with his arms in the air the Bear came up over 8 feet and was imposing.  What Papa remembered the most was the beautiful white diamond in the middle of the Bear's chest (that he viewed through the window on the other side of the door). 

The bears weren't much bothered by the guests either.  In the first year when we built the pool, the back wall of the pool had about a foot ledge and then a drop of 6 feet or so to the pumps and equipment.  In later years a roof/deck was put over the equipment.  BUT originally you got to the end of the deep end, and if you wanted to take a breather you could prop yourself up and stare into the woods.  Maman tells a wonderful story of a young lady who stayed with us for several days.  She would go out each late afternoon for a swim.  She wore glasses and used to leave them along the shallow end by the stairs.  Her third or fourth day with us she went our for her swim and decided to rest, suspended on the wall at the deep end and relax gazing (fairly blindly) at the woods.  All of a sudden she saw a big "dog" down by the tree line.  She thought it interesting and wanted to see it better, so swam to get her glasses and swam carefully back to the deep end with her glasses on.  Propped herself on the back wall...and..., according to Maman, screamed bloody murder across the pool, up the hill across the front porch of the Inn and into the Lobby.  Shall we all agree it wasn't a dog?  I don't recall her spending another night, but I could be wrong.

Every summer an older cousin would be imported from France to watch Jacqueline and I.  When I was 8 or 9 it wasn't a cousin.  It was my aunt and uncle the school teachers, Danielle and Jean-Paul with my cousins Frederique (one year older) and Franck (one year younger).  We had so many wonderful adventures that summer...Hell, Frederique still carries a scar under her chin from one of my dares. But again, back to my tale:  Jean-Paul had heard about the bears and was bound and determined to see them.  The previous two stories happened while he was in residence.  In fact as the young woman came screaming "there is a bear", he grabbed his camera and went tearing out to "see" the bear.  He was getting no where, and it was becoming the joke of the summer. 

Finally having had enough, he rigged up and alarm system to wake him.  He ran a string from the corner of the dumpster, 50 feet up to the corner of the loading dock.  From there he ran eye hooks along the back of the building along the roof line to the back of room #9 where he and Danielle were sleeping (probably another 100 or so feet) and threaded the string up to their room.  Outside his window, attached to the string he had a tin can filled with nails.  The bears tried to tip over the dumpster, the string would pull tight, and release if the bears had to try several times, and this would rattle the nails in the tin can and wake him up. Brilliant!

Oh, and he had to talk Papa into turning "off" the "juice".   Papa said, "Yes, but you clean up the trash".  So the first time the can rattled and woke Jean-Paul up he got dressed in a hurry and grabbed his camera and quietly went downstairs (couldn't disrupt the paying guests, you know)and, and, and, nothing.  The second and the third time as well.  Finally he decided he couldn't take the time to get dressed so he slept in his clothes for a couple of days.  He also got to the point that he didn't care if the paying guests woke up or not, and he was going to leave his camera by the loading dock for easier access and less encumbrance as he made his way out.  I don't know how many mornings he had to clean up the trash, I don't remember if he ever got the picture, but I do know he finally saw his bears. 

I don't remember many bear stories after that year.  The deer didn't come around as much either.  For that matter the "moose crossing" signs that are all over Northern New Hampshire weren't necessary back then either. 

Then all of a sudden they were back.  You can now read about the bears in Northern New Hampshire every Spring (moose too), with warnings from the local game wardens about bringing in your bird feeders.  Some people listen, most do not.  Most of these people (who are still outnumbered by the animals) moved to the North Country to be closer to nature, not chase them away.  Some are hunters, others are just happy to be able to glimpse into these fascinating creatures lives.  It is a kick when I am lucky enough to catch a glimpse...from the other side of the window of course. 

While I was there and snapped this cool pix...I also scored some amazing tomatoes.  Those tomatoes ended up in this Panzanella salad.  I am on a kick this summer on the panzanella salads, have you tried one?