In Brittany, the sea is not a view — it’s a rhythm. It sings through the gull cries above Concarneau, claps against the granite cliffs of Finistère, and sways in the nets that come ashore each dawn with the catch of the day. And from this daily bounty comes cotriade — the humble, briny stew that once warmed the bellies of Breton fishermen before GPS, when lunch came from what the ocean allowed.

 

It is not bouillabaisse. There are no tomatoes, no saffron, no airs of the Riviera. Cotriade is honest and pale — a clear broth steeped in onions, potatoes, and white fish that fall apart with a glance.

 

We first tasted it on a cold morning in Douarnenez. An elderly woman ladled it from an enamel pot at the back of a market stall, her fingers red from handling hake and pollack. She pressed a slice of buttered pain de campagne into our hands and said: “Il faut tremper — sinon, c’est pas la peine.” You must dip — or what’s the point?

 

 

🐟 The Recipe: Cotriade

 

Serves 4

Time: 45–60 minutes

 

Ingredients

 

• 1 kg (2.2 lb) of mixed firm white fish (hake, pollack, whiting), skin on, cut into large pieces

• 500 g (1.1 lb) waxy potatoes, peeled and thickly sliced

• 2 onions, thinly sliced

• 2 garlic cloves, gently crushed

• 1 leek, white part only, halved and sliced

• 1 bouquet garni (bay leaf, thyme, parsley stems)

• 1.2 L (5 cups) fish stock or water

• 10 black peppercorns

• Coarse sea salt

• Optional: a splash of cider vinegar or white wine

• For serving: crusty bread, salted Breton butter

 

Method

 

In a large pot, heat a splash of oil or a knob of butter. Gently cook the onions, leek, and garlic until soft and translucent — not browned. Add the potatoes, bouquet garni, peppercorns, and stock. Bring to a simmer and cook for about 20–25 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.

 

Now, lay the fish pieces gently on top. Sprinkle with a pinch of coarse salt. Cover and poach for another 10–12 minutes, or until the fish is just cooked and flakes easily.

 

Taste the broth. Some Bretons add a small dash of cider vinegar or white wine here, to lift the flavors. Adjust seasoning, remove the bouquet garni, and serve hot — with thick slices of bread and good butter.

 

Dip. Always dip.

 

🍷 Wine Pairing

 

This is a dish of subtlety — so let’s not drown it with oak or noise. Choose a Muscadet Sèvre-et-Maine sur Lie — crisp, lemony, with a whisper of the sea. Its gentle minerality and freshness lift the broth without overwhelming the delicate fish.

 

Or, for something closer to Brittany: a chilled dry Breton cider — golden, earthy, with a fine sparkle that sings beside the stew.

 

🌿 A Note from the Table

 

Cotriade is not one thing. In Le Guilvinec, they might throw in monkfish. In Saint-Brieuc, a splash of milk. In Quiberon, no garlic — ever. But the soul is the same: what the sea gives, made tender over a low flame, and shared with hands that still smell of salt and rope.

 

And if you’re ever in the port of Cancale just after sunrise, follow the trail of fish scales and morning voices. There’s a stall with a steaming pot under a blue tarp. Tell them you’re here for the real cotriade — and they’ll know you’re family.