Monday, March 14, 2022

A Tale of Two Seafood Stews, Part 2: Cioppino -- Eating Vicariously

I apologize for the delayed posting of Part 2, but I have been distracted by the tragic and criminal Russian invasion of Ukraine commencing on February 24.  Part 1 was posted on February 14.  Bon Appetit!

As I stated in Part I, the differences between bouillabaisse and cioppino are few; broth is the main distinguishing component.   And whereas bouillabaisse is a genuine French stew, cioppino is an Italian-style seafood stew – purely tomato-based and coupled with a fish stock broth – first created and served in San Francisco.  Cioppino also includes wine – red or white – while bouillabaisse, at least historically, does not although plenty of modern versions do call for it, and it works beautifully.  OK, that is the general rule, but it can get more involved than that.  Olive oil, fennel and fennel seeds, yellow onion, garlic, fresh parsley, and red pepper flakes are frequently added as aromatics, and cioppino is often served with garlic bread while served with a local red Zinfandel or Vermentino from Sonoma or Napa.    

Some diners will suggest that there is not that much of a difference between a cioppino and a traditional bouillabaisse – that cioppino is simply and Americanized version of the latter – but I beg to differ.  These two stews share similar herbs and spice and are equally fragrant yet with a decidedly different flavor profile.  It is also more traditional to serve bouillabaisse as separate dishes – the seafood removed to a platter and the rich broth served separately.  Of course, one may mix the seafood and broth together when serving, if one wishes, but there is something a bit more elegant about serving it separately in the traditional way.  Cioppino, on the other hand, is always served from one big pot with a little bit of everything dished into individual bowls.  Although there are certainly similarities, cioppino is delicious in its own right.  Each has continued to evolve standing on their own merits.  

The name “cioppino” comes from ciuppin (also spelled ciupin . . . the literal translation meaning “chopped” or “torn to pieces”), a seafood soup from the Liguria coast of Italy bordering France.  The dish also shares its origin with cacciucco from Tuscany.  In fact, the dish actually traces its roots to San Francisco where Italian immigrants from Liguria fished along the waterfront wharfs in the North Beach neighborhood.  The earliest printed description of cioppino – called "chespini” – dates to circa 1900, and "Cioppino" first appears in a 1906 cookbook published to raise funds in the wake of the devastating fire that year.  Cioppino would soon become a staple in many San Francisco area restaurants.

In preparing the broth, it should be allowed to simmer for an hour or so before the seafood is added.  Onions, fennel, and garlic are sauteed in butter before adding white wine and a bouquet garni of selected herbs.  Some chefs will also add vinegar, hot sauce, and clam juice to enhance the flavors of the broth.  Once the wine has burned off it is time to add the chopped and crushed tomatoes and a seafood stock prepared by boiling fish heads and bones.  It is time to add the selected seafood after the broth has properly simmered to draw out the flavors,

The main ingredients of the original cioppino recipe are sourced from the Pacific, including whole quartered Dungeness crab in the shell, clams, shrimp, bay scallops, shucked oysters, mussels, and calamari.  Portions of white fish are often added, depending on the day’s catch or one’s personal choice.  Garlic sourdough bread is ideal for soaking up the flavorful broth.  And unlike bouillabaisse, cioppino requires more than a simple spoon and fork; don’t forget the shell cracker and seafood fork for the crab.  Serving a proper cioppino can get a let messy at times, but it is worth the extra effort.  

During the late 1970s and early 1980s I frequently traveled to San Francisco on business, and it was there that I first encountered cioppino.  I had many restaurants to choose from, but why not try the place that is named after the dish?  Cioppino’s is located at 400 Jefferson Street, at the corner of Levenworth Street at Fisherman’s Wharf (formerly Meigg’s Pier) / Hyde Street Pier.  This pier served as the ferry terminal to Marin County and the East Bay before the big bridges were built in the 1930s.  Although there is a rich assortment of seafood dishes to choose from, its signature dish is, of course, a hearty cioppino.  The crab can be removed from the shell for a few dollars more.  I enjoyed my meal, but I found everything a bit overpriced due to the simple fact that the city is expensive and the area is a main draw for tourists.  

On my next trip I looked for a place along the Embarcadero far from the Fishermen’s Wharf  tourist traffic and found it at the Pier Market at Pier 39.  The house cioppino was brimming with fresh fish, mussels, clams, shrimp and crab served over pasta which I found to be a pleasant addition.  There is no specific rules as to what constitutes a traditional cioppino.  Every local chef has a particular manner in which the dish is prepared and served.
Perhaps my favorite place to enjoy cioppino is found across the Bay in Sausalito.   Salito’s Crabhouse, at 1200 Bridgeway, offers different sizes of its house “Cioppinolito,” which is described as having mussel, crab, shrimp, calamari, fish fillet, potatoes, yams, onions, corn, garlic and black olives, and spicy “Cioppino sauce.”  My favorite dish at Salito’s is the tasty sand dabs, but a small bowl of Cioppinolito is always a nice starter to fire up the tastebuds for what will follow.
 
I have occasionally ordered what is billed as cioppino in several restaurants on the East Coast – Boston, New York, and here in Washington, DC – but I have never found it to be as attractive or as flavorful as those served on the Left Coast.  Don’t get me wrong.  Some have been very fine fish stews, but billing them as “traditional” cioppino is perhaps going a bit too far.  There is one notable exception, however, and again it was found in Maine . . . in the dining room of the Island Inn, on Monhegan Island situated in Muscongus Bay a dozen miles of Midcoast Maine.  It was not billed as the  traditional offering and it included lobster for a local flare, but it was the best I have had outside of the Bay area.  Unfortunately it is not a regular menu offering so I always make sure to order it when it does show up.  

No matter whether it is bouillabaisse or cioppino, a well-prepared offering of the freshest seafood and vegetables matched with a proper fish stock and selected spices and aromatics will please any diner’s palate.

No comments:

Post a Comment