Bouillabaisse is not a soup. Let’s stop with this reductive label: it’s a complete meal, a ceremony, something you don’t rush between two meetings. It’s a weekend dish, and it demands respect.
The bowl arrives with this deep yellow-orange broth — the exact color of a sunset over the Mediterranean. The steam rises, loaded with a sea and saffron scent that hits the back of your throat in the best possible way. The pieces of white fish contrast with the lightly golden potatoes, and on the side, slices of toasted bread wait, spread with a rouille that smells strongly of garlic. Rustic and beautiful at the same time.
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