So, when he is away, I have carte blanche and the world is my oyster, sometimes literally. His one night excursions are the most difficult menus to plan because I have one opportunity to cram everything I want into one meal. It makes my head spin. Two nights and over excursions afford me the chance to gradually ease into my dining desires and expectations.
Last night, I killed two birds with one meal. I satisfed my desire for seafood and soup. My one night only selfish meal. I couldn't decide between bouillabaisse or cioppino,both tomato and wine based fish stews similar in technique and style, but with very different flavor profiles. I decided on Cioppino with a nod to bouillabaisse.
I sauteed a thinly sliced fennel bulb, cipollini onions, and garlic in our new find: Plugra Clarified Butter. With the butter fats removed, this butter has a higher smoke point and can be used to saute and flavor without fear of burning, similar to an olive oil and butter saute combination.
Once they softened and started to color, I added tomato paste to color and white wine to deglaze. Fish stock, crushed san marzano tomatoes, fresh parsley, orange peel, salt and pepper finished the sauce.
I let that simmer for about an hour to thoroughly infuse and combine before tossing in gorgeous tagged & labled fresh farm raised littleneck clams and pearly white fresh halibut. Topped the pot with a lid to steam open the clams and within minutes, orange fennel tomato dripping steamed clams and halibut.
I tumbled the clams and halibut into a large pasta bowl, bathed them with the briny anise sweet acidic sauce, drizzled it with Pernod and olive oil, and garnished it with the fennel fronds and parsley.
I normally have good crunchy bread on hand to sop, but last night used two slices of regular untoasted unadorned white sandwich bread to absorb and soak up the broth. The very ordinariness of it made it the perfect sponge. It was messy. I ate the first fennel draped clam and used the empty half shell as a scoop to pry the remaining clams from their shells and to spoon broth from the bottom of the bowl. Even though both fork and spoon were within reach I turned it into finger food, alone in my pajamas in front of the television devouring a heaving bowl of Cioppino, clam by clam and scoop by scoop. I was sticky and covered in clammy tomato broth with shiny olive oil lips. I was in heaven.
It was my night.
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