N.B. Sorry for the delay in posting this recipe. I usually post on the first day of the month. Computer was down. But it's a very simple one so you won't need a lot of time studying it. Bon appétit!
There are words that are confusing in any language. Take, for instance, the French word loup (pronounced “loo”). In class, I was told it meant wolf.
There’s the grand méchant loup, the Big Bad Wolf that ate the grandmother of Petit Chaperon Rouge and hid in the bed to try to eat her, too. There’s the loup garou, the werewolf that seems to exist in all cultures down through the ages. In the French folklore of the mountainous central Lozère region, there’s also the still unexplained Bête du Gévaudan, a wolf (or large wolf-like dog) which attacked 124 people between 1764 and 1767... and then just disappeared.
In modern times, the Gordon Geckos of the French variety are called jeunes loups aux dents longues - young wolves with long fangs. If you’re famous or infamous in France, you will be as instantly recognizable as a white wolf, connu comme le loup blanc. Polar cold is known as a froid de loup and if you’re ravenous you have a faim de loup. And dusk falls somewhere between the hour of the dog and that of the wolf - entre chien et loup.
So you can imagine my confusion when I first saw loup au fenouil on a menu in Paris. The French eat a lot of strange things - frog’s legs, snails, Lord knows how many different types of offal... But wolf? And why accommodate it with fennel?
Then I found out that there is a variety of fish called loup. At least it’s called loup in the Mediterranean; everywhere else it’s called bar, which means sea bass.
The only sea connection that might tie these two together is the vieux loup de mer, the old sea captain. But I doubt that’s it.
Sea bass is a delicately flavored fish so it should please even those who don’t like “fishy fish” such as sardines, herring, even tuna or salmon. That’s why the fennel is added: to zip its blandness up a bit. Famous French chef Raymond Oliver calls it insipid and says it doesn’t need to be scaled; just gutted. To each his own. The fishmonger will prepare it for you anyway, unless you fish it out of the Mediterranean all by yourself, in which case you’re on your own.
Chef Oliver grills it over dry fennel sticks. Good luck finding any of those. Luckily, he also suggests stuffing the fish with fennel fronds before broiling it, which is how I’ve always found it served in French restaurants.
Whichever way you do it - outside on the grill or inside under the broiler - a three-pound sea bass will take 20 minutes to grill, 10 minutes per side. Couldn’t be easier.
Serve it up right away with simple melted butter over the top, or else flambé it with some cognac, or better yet anisette, if you have it. The licorice-y taste will accentuate the fennel.
Accompany it with a green salad sprinkled with sliced black olives, some crusty French baguette and a crisp white wine and you’ll see what August on the Riviera is all about.