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A restaurant kitchen in Paris in the first half of the 20th century.
Once the preparation itself begins in earnest, success depends above all on precision in cooking. Overcook a sea-bream by just a few minutes and its delicate flesh will turn to mush, whereas doing the same to an oily fish will give it more or less the appearance and consistency of an old shoe. Forget to let a duck rest after removing it from the oven and the flesh will be unpleasantly tough. Over-boil baby vegetables and they will be irremediably ruined, becoming soft and tasteless. On the other hand, if you do not give the meat for a stew the hours of cooking it requires in order to reach the desired tenderness, it will be inedible.
Cooking techniques (grilling, frying, roasting, braising, steaming, boiling, simmering) are simple but precise, and require a little organization and the right equipment (see page 29). Sauces have become considerably lighter. But that does not mean that cream, butter and classical beurre blanc have been banished from the Parisian kitchen, where they are still used with moderation to enrich cooking juices and coulis. Variations are infinite, although the basic techniques are in fact few in number. The thick sauces made with a flour roux, once a mainstay of any decent French kitchen, have all but disappeared.
Now, more than ever before, Parisian cuisine concentrates on freshness, quality of products, and precise execution, which is hardly compatible with industrial agriculture. Today's high-technology agiculture produces tomatoes all year round in a nutritive liquid under neon lights, perfect in appearance and perfectly insipid in taste, and provides unbelievably red mid-winter strawberries that have the taste and consistency of papier mâché.
If you are in a hurry why not prepare one of those many very simple Parisian dishes that are tasty and quick to make? Not only will you increase your dining pleasure but you'll do no harm to your health either.
The cooking brigade at the Brasserie Marty, in the heat of the action.
The Belly of Paris
Eight centuries of fresh produce in the heart of the capital
All Paris markets, grocers, and restaurants that have any pretensions to quality, stock up between 2 am and noon from Monday to Saturday, at the wholesale food market of Rungis.
This 232 hectare behemoth (larger than the Principality of Monaco), located 5 miles south of the capital, handles 2,000,000 tons of food produce a year and feeds 18,000,000 people. It is the biggest fresh-produce market in the world. The goods, which are counted in crates, trays, pallets, trolleys, and transport containers axe reserved for those in the food trade.
Rungis Market opened on March 3, 1969. It took just forty-eight hours and a fleet of trucks to move what had been the Paris market since the start of the 12th century, the famous Halles that had had its praises sung by countless writers and poets. It has been said that the rats which flooded Le ventre de Paris, The Belly of Paris, as Emile Zola entitled one of his novels, followed the great move, but that is perhaps just malicious conjecture.
Les Halles, circa 1930. The bustle in front of one of Baltard's pavilions at dawn.
King Louis VI, the Fat (!), established the public Champeaux Market in 1136, on the site which the Halles occupied until their demise. The Guild of Halles Strongmen appeared during the reign of Saint Louis. Aragon describes them in his own poetic manner in Les Beaux Quartiers: "Sluggish yet nimble men with their bare, muscular arms, they seemed to be milking the formidable teats of a nurturing night." By the time of the move to Rungis, these Strongmen were still expected to be capable of carrying loads weighing 400 lb (200 kg) a distance of 60 meters!
During the 16th century François I ordered the reformation of the Halles and by the time of the French Revolution, it would specialize only in foodstuffs. Napoleon III was responsible for contracting Victor Baltard to design the warehouses which were constructed between 1854 and 1868 (the last two of which were only completed in 1936), giving the market its appearance that was familiar to Parisians until it closed in 1969.
In this gargantuan wholesale market, you could find the rarest, freshest, finest products, from the best sources. This tradition of quality dates back to the Middle Ages with its litany of "shad from Bordeaux, sturgeon from Blaye, conger eels from La Rochelle, lampreys from Nantes, cuttlefish from Coutances, herring from Fecamp, loach from Bar-sur-Seine, salmon from the Loire, pimperneaux eels from the Eure, barbel from Saint-Florentin, crayfish from Bar, pike from Chalons, trout from Andéli, dace from Aise, pâté from Paris, tarts from Dourlens, flans from Chartres, beer from Cambrai, tripe from Saint-Denis, cheese from Brie, chestnuts from Lombardy, puree from Arras, mustard from Dijon, pears from Saint-Rieule, garlic from Gandeluz, onions from Corbeil, shallots from Etampes." To this list, of which several entries still exist, today we could add butter from Echiré, potatoes from the Ile de Ré, prunes from Agen, Salers beef, lamb from Sisteron, Lyon sausage, walnuts from Grenoble, goose foie gras from Alsace, duck foie gras from the Landes, ceps from the Périgord, Guérande sea salt, duck from Challans, chicken from Loué, goose from Touraine, Bayonne ham, jam from Bar-le-Duc, and olives from Nice, among many others. The market also sells products from around the globe, including some of the most exquisite and beautiful exotic fruits.
The fresh fish market at Rungis At three in the morning, when activity is in full swing.
With the disappearance of Les Halles as a market, the night life of Paris changed. The restaurant Le Pied de Cochon is still open twenty-four hours a day, but you no longer see, clustered round the bar in the early hours, the night workers bolstering themselves with an umpteenth, dirt-cheap coffee or a snack washed down with a glass of Côtes-du-Rhône, while the merrymakers on the first-floor pay dearly for their peasant fare of pork trotters and frites or French onion soup. All that transits today through this now renovated quarter are tourists, both foreign and local, seeking the spirit of Les Halles, but without the tumult, smells, lights, bustle, and mountains of produce that characterized the old Halles. Despite turning the page on such a long history, there is some consolation in noting that Paris still overflows with memories and signs of the past on virtually every street. The existing markets scattered all over the capital are just one example of this, whether they be covered, like the Secrétan, Saint-Quentin or Saint-Honoré markets, the busy shopping neighborhoods on the rue des Martyrs, rue Daguerre or rue Mouffetard, or the roaming markets, whose stalls fill the streets 2 or 3 days a week, like the rue de Convention, avenue de Saxe, avenue de Neuilly, or boulevard Barbès. Unfortunately some markets, like the one in the rue de Buci, have kept their traditional appearance (open stalls and barrows) but sell the industrial produce of the supermarkets that have bought their businesses. There are some stalls here and there selling produce of truly mediocre quality, but fortunately most of the tradespeople are excellent purveyors, proud of their trade and their knowledge, jealously maintaining a secular tradition of freshness and quality. That is where the Parisian will find that night's delivery of fresh fish, perfect meat and charcuterie, fruit and vegetables from open fields, cream that is truly the crème de la crème, mature cheese and, often, goods imported directly from their own countries by the Portuguese, Spanish and Italians who have long been an integral part of the life of the capital.
The meat halls at Rungis. Some days, as much as 1500 tons of animal carcasses pass through its doors. The workers toil through the night in temperatures barely above freezing.
Finally,
