The New York herald., 1922-12-31


worldwide. though it is not eaten all over
the world; neither does a prima donna
meet with the same success everywhere.
The bouillabaisse of France is an in
digenous dish in which color is the chief
characteristic when it first Jumps at your
eyes," as the French say, with it's COM
plexion of vivid chrome yellow-the yellow
ray of the food spectrum, the yellow
treak" in tabled journalism, say those who,
and when, they are first inoculated; the
golden path to the palate's paradise, de-
clare those who make of this fish stew of
the southland their regular diet 1t is the
saffron that puts the chrome into bouil-
labaisse.
"A seafood dish eaten daily by the en-
tire population of the Mediterranean shores
of France is worth a study" / said to my
SELF and sought the original sources
My original source was an ancient way
side inn, over whose destinies the Pere
Chabas, presided, once an ancient convent,
set in an old time garden and run by the
said Chabas in good, country, Provencal
traditions. From this it may be gathered
that the Pere Chabas's little inn is not one
of those fashionable, high class stables
into which tourists are driven, fed and
driven out again. 1t lacks enameled and
gilt stalls and has just plain red tiles for
a floor. even in the bedrooms.
This old red tiled rooted stone rest house,
mellowed by centuries, is in Martigues
called by the French La Venise Pro-
vencale, small Mediterranean fishing port
of great antiquity, northwest from Mar
seiIles. on an inland arm of the sea called
the Etang de Berre.
The Pere Chabas was as renowned for
his bouillabaisse as Martigues is for its
paintings by artists of all the known world
of art, who flock there in increasing num-
bers to paint its colony of fsherfolk. its
canals. its churches and its white lateen-
sailed fishing fleets.
AS usual when 1 arrived l found the
Pere Chabas in his kitchen. as l knew he
would be at 10 o'clock in the morning, pre-
pairing the daily bouillabaisse. The kitchen
was the general sitting room chez Chabds.
Here the mild hammered chef held what
was really salon de cduserie, or causerie
de salon if you choose. as he presided over
the curious Provencal range under its
great, hooded chimney, a stove with a
curious succession of aligned little fires
and of a construction that one not French
Provencal would ever be able to gear up
TO the cooking point.
To understand bouillabaisse it is neces-
sary to understand this Provencal cook
stove. 1t is a series of small, grated de-
pressions, shallow, followed out squares
in a long tile and brick dais which fills
the chimney hood four feet or more in
height. of a like depth and six feet or
more in length an all powerful cook stove
of all possible service that ii could be
called upon to give. In these little grated
depressions food is cooked by slumbering
fires of charcoal. over which brown pottery
easseroles with paper thin bottoms and
stocky marmites bubble dangerously.
Along the mantelpiece above, with its
valance of adrianople. is ranged a long.
graded row of china receptacles, each
labelled with the name of it's contents -
"Sucre," "Sel," "Poivre," "Safran." &c. in
terspersed with tall brass candlesticks and
antique lamps, the shining copper bdtterie
de cuisine of pots and pans hanging near
by upon the whitewashed walls. with the
big yellow jars containing the huiIe l>er0e