“I don’t serve chicken or salmon at Bibou,” says Chef Pierre Calmels of his tiny jewel of a restaurant on 8th Street. “I want to challenge my guests a bit more, and if I put those on my menu, people will probably order them. Then all the other interesting dishes I’ve prepared will be left over, un-eaten and un-tried. The closest I’ll go is game birds, or maybe a rooster, and possibly some arctic char.”
This very excellent policy leaves room on the menu for plenty of fish dishes: two in the winter, three in the summer. Clearly, Chef Calmels loves fish, his favorites being fresh anchovies and sardines, in that order, and oily, silvery blue beauties like mackerel—sure signs of a fish lover. Every morning he heads down to Samuels & Son to select his catch personally, rather than ordering by phone: “That way, if I don’t like the look of something, I don’t have to take it; I just pick something better. It’s worth 45 minutes of my day to go there personally to get the best product.”
And when he says fish, Calmels always means whole fish, not pieces of fish. It’s easier to check the quality with whole fish—the clear, bubbly eyes, the bright red gills, the firm flesh, the sweet ocean smell, and the clean sliminess. (Yes, fresh fish are supposed to be slimy — but never sticky!). With whole fish, too, Calmels gets more for his money: “I can portion everything exactly and use every possible scrap. Extra bones and heads go into stock, scraps I make into quenelles, and so on.” In the true French tradition, Calmels can teach you plenty of ways to use all of the fish.
Speaking of quenelles, Calmels is proudly from Lyon, famous for its quenelles de brochet, the airy “dumplings” made of pike. “Pike is a mean, bony fish that’s liable to eat everything else in your pond,” he says. “They had a lot of pike, but since the bones are very difficult to remove or eat around, they used to just grind up the whole thing, pass it through a sieve, and mix it with a panade to form into quenelles, either poached or baked in a sauce.” Older gourmands may remember the poached version Calmels’ former boss and fellow Lyon-ian Georges Perrier served tableside back in the day (and revered by the likes of Craig Claiborne and Pierre Franey). “Such a delicious dish,” Calmels says, “but we don’t have enough space at Bibou, so we do the other version, gratinéed in the oven with a shellfish-flavored tomato sauce.” I’m really hoping that’s on the menu next time I’m down on 8th Street!
And speaking of fish stock, Calmels offered two points to remember in addition to the usual process. “First, roast the bones to color before simmering them with the mirepoix. This helps remove any possible bitterness. And, be sure to simmer for no longer than 20 minutes; any more than that and the stock starts to taste overcooked.” Good to know, and I’m sure my next soupe de poisson will benefit.
But, enough talking. This class was about cutting up fish—with efficiency and finesse.
First, we scaled. Scaling whole fish is an extraordinarily messy business. Scales fly off everywhere, no matter how many plastic trash bags you arrange to catch them. “We clean Bibou very thoroughly every day, and deep-clean once a week, but we still find the odd fish scale hiding here and there,” says Chef Calmels. “You’ll probably even find one on your pillow tonight!” 😉
We started with some yellowy-silvery gray croaker, to practice the “French cut.” This involves going in through the back to remove the spine and ribs while leaving the belly skin intact, forming a nice pocket to stuff with fresh herbs or a flavorful mousse. Then, in with tweezers and fingers to get out the pin bones. (Quick fact: The fresher the fish, the harder the pin bones are to remove.) The head stays on, so you can stand your stuffed fish up like you might see in a classic old Jacques Pepin book. I’m definitely cracking La Technique and trying this out next chance I get. Now, my wife might not be so enthusiastic about a whole fish staring off the plate with a back full of seafood mousse, but she’ll just have to deal. Or, more likely I’ll just have to deal, and eat it myself, then take her to the Royal Tavern. Or better yet, to Bibou!
The “Italian cut” is similar, but you go keep going through the fish to open the belly as well, leaving the fillets attached at both head and tail. (Quick tip: Use the round edge of your knife to slice and open, rather than poking around blindly with the tip, ripping up the delicate flesh and stabbing your fingers.) We practiced on some pretty little red snappers. This cut makes a fish perfect for layering in, say, fresh herbs or flavorful pastes like olive tapenade, that sort of thing. I’m planning to take a pair of these toward Thailand — stuffed with kaffir lime, cilantro, galangal, shallots, and chili peppers, and maybe steamed in a banana leaf and drizzled with coconut cream. “Aroy mai?” You bet!
For Spanish mackerel, we did a “basic filet.” Mackerel are smooth-skinned and need no scaling; just snip off the fins, cut in at the neck and down the backbone and the fillet comes right off. The pin bones are a hassle to tweeze out one-by-one, and you’ll wreck the flesh if you try, so just make a “V”-shaped groove on either side and pull them out in a strip. Easy. “A lot of people avoid stronger tasting, oily fish like mackerel, but I love them,” says Calmels. I do, too, and I took mine home and broiled them simply with lemon and garlic — Delicious, and chock-full of Omega-3s.
About the easiest fish to clean is the sardine, and its smaller cousin, the anchovy. Just stick your thumb in at the neck and run it down the belly, tearing open the soft skin and forcing out the guts. Pull the head off, then reach in and pinch out the spine, and most of the ribs and pin bones along with it. The result is kind of a tattered mess, but no matter, because it’s going straight into an overnight marinade of sherry vinegar, olive oil, grainy mustard, shallots, and herbs, which will soften and dissolve the remaining teeny bones. I made sure to grab Calmels’ demo sardines and took them home to do just that.
Pierre Calmels is one of our fair city’s best chefs, French or otherwise, and his message about fish is simple: Why not enjoy it more often? The world’s oceans, lakes, and rivers are filled with a motley crew of tasty sea creatures far beyond the usual cow-pig-chicken of the barnyard, and with a bit of practice and creativity, nothing will make your dining table happier than a hearty,
“Voilà, le poisson!”
