Loup de Mer Grillé aux Herbes

There are days when the sea feels close, even if it sits a hundred kilometers away. Perhaps it’s the way a lemon falls heavy in the hand, or how a sprig of thyme releases its perfume the moment it’s pinched. On those days, we reach instinctively for sea bass — loup de mer — a fish so delicate that it needs little more than fire, a few herbs, and the calm certainty that simple things are often the best.

 

We remember walking along the port of Cassis, where the boats rock at their ropes and the gulls complain like old fishermen. The morning’s catch would be laid out on crushed ice — gleaming fillets of bass with eyes as clear as the bay. The fishmongers would tell us, with the confidence of men who learned from men who learned from men, that the secret to sea bass is restraint. Too much dressing, too many spices, and you lose the memory of the sea.

 

So we grill it the Provençal way. A drizzle of olive oil. A squeeze of lemon. A dusting of thyme, rosemary, and a whisper of garlic. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. Just a steady flame and the comforting sound of a fish meeting a hot grill and announcing itself with a soft, hopeful sizzle.

 

While it cooks, we slice fennel into pale ribbons that curl like seafoam. We toss them gently with citrus, olive oil, and a pinch of salt — a salad as refreshing as a shoreline breeze. When the bass is ready, its skin crisps into a mottled bronze, while the flesh stays tender, moist, and fragrant with herbs.

 

What arrives at the table is quiet beauty. A plate without excess, where each bite tastes clean and bright, as though carrying a piece of sunlight with it. And yet, it satisfies deeply — not with richness but with clarity. It’s the sort of meal that leaves you lighter than before, as if someone has opened a window in your chest.

 

If you’ve never grilled sea bass at home, let this be the invitation. You don’t need a Mediterranean village — only a respectful flame and the willingness to keep things simple. And should you enjoy it on a terrace, with a breeze lifting the napkin and the sound of evening settling around you, all the better. But even in the humblest kitchen, this dish brings the south of France within reach.

 

And if you’re ever walking through the markets of Toulon or Marseille, follow the scent of herbs and citrus. You’ll find fishermen handing over the day’s catch with the same gentle pride as always, as if sharing something older than recipes — a way of living that celebrates what’s fresh, what’s honest, and what the sea has offered with generosity.

 

Recipe

 

Ingredients (serves 2–3)

Sea bass fillets, 400–500 g (14–18 oz) total

Olive oil, 2 tablespoons

Juice of 1 lemon

Garlic, 1 small clove, finely grated

Fresh thyme, 1 teaspoon (or a small sprig)

Fresh rosemary, 1 teaspoon (or a small sprig)

Sea salt and black pepper

Optional: thin slices of fennel and orange for a side salad

 

Instructions

 

Pat the sea bass dry and brush it with olive oil. Add the lemon juice, garlic, thyme, rosemary, salt, and pepper, letting the herbs settle into the surface of the fish. Heat a grill or grill pan until very hot, then place the fillets skin-side down. Let the skin crisp without moving it. Flip gently and cook just until the flesh turns pearly and tender. Serve at once with fennel and orange slices dressed in olive oil and a touch more lemon.

 

Wine Painting

 

A chilled Cassis Blanc is perfection — crisp, light, and laced with faint notes of citrus and herbs.

If you prefer rosé, choose a Bandol Rosé, pale and dry, with enough backbone to match the grilled skin of the bass.