No. 1203

Matelote of Canotiers

Matelote des Canotiers

Cut up into steaks one medium carp, a pike and a small eel, all being fresh and clean, with the heads and parings of the fish, some roots, aromatic herbs and mushroom parings; prepare a good broth, strain and free it from fat; put the slices of fish in a saucepan or earthen vessel, with a few mushroom heads, a bunch of parsley garnished with garlic, whole peppers and salt, and small fried and browned onions; moisten to its height with the prepared broth, and let it boil on a brisk fire in such a way that the liquid reduces to half while the fish cooks, then thicken the sauce moderately with kneaded butter (No 579), boil the sauce up twice, then remove it on one side to add a piece of butter. Dress the slices of fish on flat crusts of bread browned in butter, surround them with the garnishing, and pour the sauce over the whole.

← No. 1202 Matelote a la Talabasse Pompano, Snapper & Other Fish No. 1204 Matelote of Carp, Miroir →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer assumes you have a fish broth already going and a cook who knows what "kneaded butter" means. Neither is hard, but both are worth spelling out before you start.

The hinge: reduce while the fish cooksThe whole point of the dish is that the broth is boiled down by half in the same pan as the fish, so the liquid concentrates as it poaches. Use a wide pan, keep the heat brisk, and moisten only "to its height" — barely covering the steaks — or the reduction will take longer than the fish.
Kneaded butter (No. 579)Beurre manié: flour worked cold into butter to a smooth paste, conventionally in roughly equal weights, though Ranhofer's No. 579 is not reproduced here. Whisk it in a small piece at a time off a hard boil; the two brief boil-ups are presumably there to cook the flour through, and the final knob of butter goes in with the pan off the heat so it emulsifies rather than splits.
The three fishCarp, pike and eel are the usual freshwater grouping, distinct from the marine fish of the neighbouring recipes. If pike is unavailable, walleye or perch holds together similarly; for carp, any firm-fleshed freshwater fish will do. Eel is worth chasing down, as its richness adds to the sauce, though the thickening here comes from the kneaded butter.
Timing the steaksCut steaks about 1 to 1 1/2 inches thick and expect 8 to 12 minutes at a strong simmer, less for thinner pieces. Eel is tougher than carp and can go in a few minutes earlier. Ranhofer gives no time because he expects the reduction and the fish to finish together; check the fish, not the clock.
Whole peppers and the parsley bunch"Whole peppers" means peppercorns, a dozen or so, and both they and the garlic-studded parsley bundle are meant to be fished out before serving. Tie the parsley with kitchen string so retrieval is simple.
Mushroom paringsThe broth uses trimmings and stems — the frugal by-product of turning mushrooms for other dishes. Use whole cremini or button stems and a few caps; "mushroom heads" in the stew itself means small whole caps, added with the fish.
The crustsSlices of stale bread, crustless or not, fried in butter until browned on both sides — croutes, not toast points. Cut them large enough to sit under a steak each and put them down dry so they take up the sauce at the table rather than in the pan.
YieldOne medium carp, a pike and a small eel is a good deal of fish: figure 8 to 10 servings as written. The proportions scale down cleanly to a single fish plus a length of eel for four.

A Little History

Matelote comes from matelot, sailor, and the family of dishes it names is the French river-boatman's answer to bouillabaisse: whatever freshwater fish came out of the water, cut into lengths and stewed with onions, herbs and a thickened broth. Des canotiers — "of the boatmen," in the rowing sense — points to the same milieu, the Seine and Marne riverside guinguettes where fried gudgeon and matelote were the standing menu through the nineteenth century. Most matelotes are moistened with red or white wine; this one is unusual in relying on a concentrated fumet made from the heads and parings of the same fish, which is why the reduction step carries so much weight. Charles Ranhofer, chef of Delmonico's, printed several matelotes side by side in The Epicurean (1894) as variations on a theme, a habit of the encyclopedic French kitchen manuals he was working in the tradition of; the carp, pike and eel he calls for were presumably familiar enough on the New York market of the day.