March, sans doute, is the month for eating fish. Everything favors fish in March: the strong seasonal titles wash the fish towards shore in greater abundance; the gentler winds following the winter storms permit fishermen to venture far from the land for bigger and better catches; the Lenten meat restrictions result in a greater emphasis on fish menus. Even those who do not observe fast days welcome a change to lighter, more delicate meatless meals.
Less meat does not mean that la bonne chair—good living—has been forgotten. Many a gourmet believes that la cuisine maigre, as meals without meat are called, is the best of the whole year. And this belief is well founded; think of the delicacies from the ocean—salmon, prime of the sea, or the sweetly succulent sole and turbot, and the more robust haddock and cod, the bases for so many wonderful dishes. There are endless numbers of salt-water fish that we can buy whole, or cut into filets or steaks, Think, too, of the excellent fresh-water fish: the smooth-skinned trout with its lender pink flesh, and the pike, delight of every chef whose repertoire includes fish mousse. Don't overlook the fine shellfish either, so plentiful in March, especially lobsters, shrimp and mussels. And now is the time to eat your fill of oysters, because only too soon they will be out of the market.
Along with fish, we associate eggs with springtime and Lenten dining, They, too, are plentiful; they, too, cost relatively little, and they will take on a hundred different forms to provide Appetizing meatless meals. The French favor eggs at all times of year and, as a French luncheon dish, I would say eggs exceed every other food in popularity. A gourmet luncheon for March must certainly include fish or eggs. If you prefer a simpler menu to the one above, it is easy to leave out either the souffle or the matelote.
When I traveled through France last spring, visiting homes and restaurants in many sections, I realized once more how much the French appreciate fish. As I look back on those days—motoring from Paris to the Burgundy wine trail, and on to my native Moulins and Vichy—it seems to me I had hardly a luncheon without fish or eggs. and every dinner included a fish course. One luncheon especially stands out in my memory and influenced my choice of this March menu. It was arranged for me at St. Pourçain-sur-Sioule by my brother Lucien, who had come from Paris and taken us to the Hotel Chêne Vert et France. The owner M. Petit, a retired chef like myself and also from mon pays, had prepared a special surprise: an authentic Bourbonnais meal with dishes cooked in the local manner, such as I had not tasted in many a year.
I wish you could visit St.-Pourçain-sur-Sioule. It is charming and quaint, a true example of rural France, with its centuries-old church and houses and the picturesque falls where the Sioule drops into the Allier River. You enter the hotel, a large and busy one, through a vine-clad entrance court which repeats the charm of the village. But the hotel dining room is its most impressive feature. The old, old pieces—tables, chairs, dressers, gleaming copper, ancient faience ware — would enhance any museum. but remain where they are to be enjoyed by the hotel's guests. It was, in fact, a room so utterly lovely with the spring sunshine streaming through the plant-tilled windows, that for a moment I Thought my friends might neglect the good food and wine which M. and Mine. Petit had waiting for us.
We sat first in the little café and drank an apéritif, a sparkling white wine called Grand Vin Mousseux, Méthode Chamenoise, Cristal Saint Pourçain, a wine almost like champagne and made the same way. With it we nibbled freshly cooked, piping hot potato chips, just faintly salted. Not a usual accompaniment to champagne, you may think, but then perhaps you have never tasted such crisp, delicate chips as these.
Luncheon started with a quiche Bourbonnaise, the cheese and ham tart for which I gave the recipe last September. Then came the pièce de résistance, a steaming terrine of mate-loWi a fish stew as sacred to (he inland Frenchman as is bouillabaisse to his cousins on the southern coast. It was cooked with fish from the Sioule and the vin rouge du pays, and served with tiny new potatoes, prepared the local way in a buttery sauce thick with parsley. We had a salad of dandelion greens, tender little ones with only the leaf tips turned green. In France, the country people gather these eagerly when the spring plowing uncovers them in the fields. With them came a dressing few of you have ever tasted: walnut oil mixed with wine vinegar. Walnuts grow abundantly in this district and provide all the oil for cooking. The oil has a rich and nutty flavor which, combined with red wine vinegar, makes a lovely vinaigrette sauce.
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