Blanquette de Poisson

Dinner

France's most comforting white stew gets a brilliant two-fish twist. Flaky cod and rich salmon replace the traditional veal in this creamy, herb-laden blanquette that's been warming French souls for centuries.

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Prep Time 20 minutes mins

Cook Time 45 minutes mins

Total Time 1 hour hr 5 minutes mins

Servings 4

Ingredients 

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For the Fish and Vegetables

• 400 gr cod fillets
• 400 gr salmon fillets
• 300 gr mushrooms
• 300 gr carrots
• 200 gr onion
• 2 bay leaf
• 2 sprigs thyme
• 1 handful parsley

For the Sauce

• 60 gr unsalted butter
• 60 gr plain flour
• 200 ml dry white wine
• 500 ml fish stock
• 200 ml Double cream
• 2 egg yolks
• 20 ml lemon juice
• 1 handful parsley
• salt and black pepper

Equipment

1 dutch oven

1 sieve

1 whisk

mixing bowl

Instructions

1. Prepare the aromatic base

• Melt half the butter in your casserole dish over medium heat. Chuck in the carrots and baby onions, give them a light seasoning with salt and white pepper. Cook gently for 5-6 minutes until they start to soften, don't let them colour though. This step is to coax out sweet flavours. They should look glossy and smell lovely. Add the bay leaves, thyme, and parsley stalks.

2. Add the mushrooms and wine

• Add in the mushrooms and cook for another 3-4 minutes until they start weeping their juices. Pour in the white wine and let it bubble away for 2 minutes, you want to cook off the harsh alcohol but keep the wine's brightness. The smell should be properly divine at this point! Add the fish stock and bring to a gentle simmer. Not a rolling boil, more like barely bubbling.

  The mushrooms are doing their thing here, releasing all those earthy flavours. And that wine? Choose something you'd actually drink. Life's too short for cooking wine that tastes like disappointment.

3. Gently poach the fish

• Season both the cod and salmon chunks with salt and white pepper. Add the cod first and poach for 3-4 minutes, then add in the salmon pieces. Cod needs slightly longer than salmon, which can go from perfect to overcooked in moments. Cover and continue poaching very gently for another 6-7 minutes until both fish flake easily but still hold their shape. When done, carefully lift everything out with a slotted spoon and keep it warm in a serving dish.

  Right, this is where people usually panic. Don't. The fish will tell you when it's ready, it'll flake easily but still look like fish, not fish paste. Salmon is particularly delicate, so treat it accordingly.

4. Make the roux

• Strain that cooking liquid through a fine sieve. Wipe out your casserole dish and melt the remaining butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook for 2-3 minutes, whisking constantly. You're making a white roux. Don't let it brown or you'll lose that clean flavour that makes blanquette special.

  The roux is the foundation of your sauce.

5. Build the sauce

• Gradually whisk in that strained liquid, bit by bit, whisking like your life depends on it to prevent lumps. It'll look worryingly thin at first, then suddenly thicken. This is the French technique, the transformation from liquid to sauce happens almost instantly.

  If you get lumps, don't despair. Pass it through a sieve and carry on. Even French grandmothers have lumpy days.

6. The liaison

• Whisk the egg yolks with the double cream in a small bowl until smooth. This is the liaison, the bit that transforms good sauce into sublime sauce. Gradually whisk a few spoonfuls of the warm sauce into the egg mixture to warm it up (stops the eggs scrambling), then whisk this back into the main sauce. Heat gently for 2-3 minutes, stirring constantly. The sauce should thicken to coat the back of a spoon.

  This is the moment of truth. Take your time, warm those eggs gradually, and whatever you do, don't let it boil or you'll have very expensive scrambled eggs.

7. Bring it together

• Add the lemon juice and taste for seasoning. Gently return the fish and vegetables to the sauce, being extra careful not to break up the delicate pieces. The salmon will be particularly fragile now. Warm through very gently for 2-3 minutes, just long enough to heat everything without overcooking. Stir in the fresh parsley and serve immediately.

  And there you have it! You have made your own French blanquette!

Notes

• Use centre-cut salmon fillets rather than tail pieces, which can be thin and overcook easily. The natural oils in salmon will enrich the sauce beautifully.
• The combination of cod and salmon creates an incredibly rich cooking liquid. If anything, you might want to use slightly less cream than you would with a single fish to let the natural fish flavours shine.
• This reheats brilliantly the next day, though be even more gentle with the heat to prevent the fish breaking up further.

About this recipe

Blanquette de poisson did not start with fish at all, it actually started with veal. Walk into almost any neighbourhood bistro from Lille to Marseille and you will see blanquette de veau on the menu, the dish this French fish stew is based on. It’s the same technique, but different protein, and if you ask me: an even better result.

Where blanquette comes from

The whole method goes way back to medieval monastery kitchens. Monks perfected that soft white sauce cooking for Lent. There was no browning of meat and no roasting. There was no high heat at all. It was just a lot of patience, and a gentle simmering that pulls flavor out slowly. By the 18th century “blanquette de veau” became this bourgeois cooking classic. Fancy enough for special dinners and still cozy enough for family meals.

The name comes from “blanc”, which means white. It basically explains that pale, perfect sauce that makes the dish special. Everything about “blanquette” stays soft and gentle. The cooking method, the color on the plate and even the taste itself. It sits completely opposite from those dark, caramelized braises that usually get all the attention.

From aristocratic tables to bistro staples

At the beginning, “blanquette” was expensive. Veal cost money, French butter and cream were luxury ingredients, and the liaison technique needed real skill and attention. But French cooking has a stubbornly democratic streak, and “blanquette” slowly moved from aristocratic households to middle‑class homes, then into the bistros and brasseries that fed working people.

By the 19th century, any serious French cook was expected to know how to make a proper blanquette, and it became a quiet test of competence. The dish made it through both world wars, bent to rationing when it had to, and came out the other side even more cherished. Post‑war France embraced it as a symbol of comfort and normal family life returning.

The coastal version: fish blanquette

Along the Atlantic coast, fishing families looked at what their inland relatives were doing with veal and simply applied the same logic to what came off the boats. They already knew the method: gentle poaching, a white roux, and that careful liaison of egg yolks and cream. Swapping veal for fish was an obvious step, and the result was quietly extraordinary.

Fish blanquette works so well because the white sauce supports the seafood rather than smothering it. Strong braises and tomato‑heavy sauces can easily drown out delicate fish. This French fish stew does the opposite. It lifts the flavour and adds richness without fighting it.

Why cod works so well here

This cod stew uses both cod and salmon, which gives a more interesting result than either fish on its own. Cod brings that firm, flaky texture and a clean, mild flavour that soaks up the sauce beautifully. Salmon brings richness and natural oils that enrich the cooking liquid from within. Together, they give you a cod stew with far more depth than a single‑fish version could.

The trick with cod is not to rush it as gently poached cod stays in neat, satisfying flakes. But if you cook the cod too quickly or too hot, it breaks up into the sauce and loses that lovely bite. So treat it gently and it will pay you back.

The right pot for this fish stew

A French fish stew like this needs a pot that keeps heat steady and gentle from start to finish. Cast iron is ideal for this job. I make this blanquette de poisson in a Staub cocotte 28 cm, which is the perfect size for four generous servings and holds an even temperature, exactly what this kind of sauce needs. The enamel interior avoids any metallic taste in the delicate white sauce, and the pot looks completely at home going straight from hob to table. For a dish this elegant, that matters.

As pescatarians, this is our version

We do not eat meat at home, so blanquette de veau was never part of our regular rotation. When we found this fish version, it instantly became a staple. The gentle poaching keeps the fish in better condition than almost any other method I know. The white sauce is silky, rich, and very moreish. And the liaison, that final moment when egg yolks and cream turn a good sauce into something special, works just as beautifully here as it does in the original.

This is real French comfort food. It asks for a bit of patience and attention, but nothing about it is difficult. And what you get in the end is a French fish stew that tastes like it took far more effort than it actually did.