Love that French accent: More than mayonnaise, rouille is a sauce worth slathering
It's hard to pronounce, but if you can't wrap your tongue around the phonetics, don't worry, you'll have no problem with the flavor.
A cousin of aïoli, this genre of mayonnaise is typically flavored with a blend of garlic, red pepper for a nip of spice and a sprinkle of saffron. Its burned-orange tinge is how rouille acquired its name, which means rust in French.
So where does this exotically flavored and colored variant of mayonnaise figure in the greater scheme of French cuisine? Not where you would expect. Remember, the French dip their fries in mayo while buttering a ham and cheese sandwich. So don't be surprised when a little saucer of rouille is served along a steaming bowl of what is known in the bistros simply as soupe de poisson, or fish soup.
To the American palate, soup and a side of mayo is undoubtedly an epicurean oddity. Yet to the French, it is the first course of bouillabaisse, the signature seafood stew of the Mediterranean. Bouillabaisse isn't a mere dish, but a drawn-out ritualistic feast born from the bustling ports of southern France. It's a soul-warming melange of fish, shellfish and potatoes steeped in a savory cocktail of fennel and tomatoes laced with saffron and the tang of orange zest. Soupe de poisson is the sumptuous broth that collects after the concoction has simmered a while.
While France is the country where perfect table manners come above all else, soupe de poisson is a socially acceptable way of playing with your food. The bowl of broth arrives with rouille, thin slices of grilled baguette and a mound of shredded gruyère cheese. These are the building blocks for creating little islands of decadence on your sea of soup. Float the croutons, add a dollop of rouille and top with cheese. The best flavors of land and sea are married in such delicate harmony, it's easy to forget that a main course is yet to come.
The Seattle dining scene favors the Italian seafood stew cioppino, which makes chefs like Charlie Durham shine even brighter for serving up a soupe de poisson every night at his Capitol Hill bistro, Cassis. "Bouillabaisse is more impressive than cioppino, more refined and more complicated."
I concur, and most importantly, the bouillabaisse has the rouille.
Another reason I like Durham is he shares my enthusiasm for using rouille in ways that would truly puzzle the French.
"I've dressed cold vegetable salads with it, haricots verts, peas; I've tossed it with pasta, you can treat it like a tapenade."
Yes!
And it doesn't stop there. Fried calamari, crab cakes, crudités — anything that could use a dip. Or a sandwich that needs a little dressing up. It's a wonderful complement to steamed artichokes, asparagus or shrimp.
Creating rouille at home is simple as long as you aren't frightened by the prospect of making your own mayonnaise. Like bouillabaisse itself, there are regional variations of rouille. You'll rarely find two recipes that match, so it's flexible, open to personal preferences and experimentation.
Although some recipes call for bread or potatoes as a thickener, others stick to a mayonnaise base: olive oil and egg yolks. This works best when I want rouille for something other than the soup. Once blended smooth, I add on, aiming for a little punch in the flavor: a touch of red pepper (one with a little spice to it), liberal with the garlic, and a pinch of saffron (I find powdered works best for blending) to ensure the rich, smoky-orange to reddish color.
Be warned, though. Most recipes yield modest amounts, and you may get to the bottom of your bowl sooner than expected. You might consider doubling the recipe, especially when you find out how good it tastes on French fries.
Rouille
From Chef Charlie Durham of Cassis
3 red bell peppers
1 cup olive oil
6 cloves garlic, minced
5 dried ancho chilies
2 small, hot dried chilies, such as pequin
3 slices good white bread, crusts removed
1 tablespoon fresh thyme
1 teaspoon sherry vinegar
Salt and pepper
1. Roast the bell peppers over an open flame until the skins blacken. Place the peppers in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until cool. When cool, gently peel the blackened skin from the peppers, remove the seeds, and set aside.
2. Heat the olive oil and the garlic together over low heat until the garlic just starts to color. Remove from the heat and set aside. The garlic will continue to cook. If it becomes fully browned stop the cooking by straining the garlic out of the oil.
3. Lightly toast both kinds of dried chilies in a skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 3 minutes. Add 1/2 cup water to the skillet and cover for 30 minutes to soften the chilies. Remove the chilies from the water, but reserve the water. Purée the bell peppers and chilies in a food processor, adding a little of the reserved water from the chilies to make the purée more smooth. With the machine running, add the bread and continue to process until fully incorporated. Drizzle in the olive oil and garlic in a thin stream to emulsify. Remove the rouille from the food processor and mix in the thyme and vinegar. Season to taste with salt and pepper and refrigerate until ready to use.
Jacqueline Koch is a writer and photographer living on Whidbey Island.