Blanquette de Poisson
Prep Time 20 minutes 
Cook Time 45 minutes 
Total Time 1 hour 5 minutes 
Servings 4Ingredients
For the Fish and Vegetables
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
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
We don’t eat meat at home, so blanquette de veau was never something I made. But when I came across the “blanquette de poisson” fish version, it went straight into the regular rotation and has stayed there ever since. The gentle poaching keeps the fish in remarkably good condition, the white sauce is silky and rich, and that liaison at the end (egg yolks and cream stirred in off the heat) turns a good sauce into something very moreish. It works just as beautifully here as it does in the original veal version. If I’m honest, I think it works even better.
This is real French comfort food, and while it asks for a bit of patience, nothing about it is technically difficult. You just need to stay attentive and keep the heat gentle throughout. What you get in the end is a French fish stew that tastes velvety and flavourful, something you’ll never forget.
Where blanquette comes from
Before we talk about the fish version, it helps to understand where the original dish comes from, because this cod stew is really just a brilliant adaptation of something much older.
Blanquette de veau is one of the great French classics. You’ll find it on bistro menus everywhere, from small towns in Normandy to brasseries in Lyon. The word blanquette comes from “blanc” (meaning white) and it tells you everything about how the dish is cooked. Nothing is browned, nothing is caramelised, no high heat at all. Just a slow, gentle simmer that builds the flavour gently. It sits in complete contrast to the rich dark braises that tend to get all the attention in French cooking, and that restraint is exactly what makes it so good.
The technique itself goes all the way back to medieval monastery kitchens, where monks developed slow, careful cooking for Lent and fasting periods. By the 18th century, blanquette de veau had become a bourgeois staple, elegant enough for a special dinner but comfortable enough for a Sunday lunch. Any serious French cook is still expected today to know how to make it properly.
From aristocratic tables to family kitchens
Blanquette started out as an expensive dish. Veal cost money, French butter and cream were not cheap either, and the liaison needed real attention. But French cooking has always had a democratic streak, and the dish gradually worked its way from wealthy households down through the middle classes and into the bistros and brasseries that fed working people across the country.
It survived both world wars, adapted when rationing forced it to, and came out the other side more loved than before. Post-war France took it to its heart as a symbol of normal life returning, and it hasn’t left the French table since. There’s something about a dish this gentle and nourishing that people keep coming back to.
The coastal version: blanquette de poisson
Along the Atlantic coast, fishing families looked at what their inland counterparts were doing with veal and applied the same logic to whatever came off the boats. They already had the technique (gentle poaching, a white roux, that careful liaison of cream and egg yolks) and swapping veal for fish turned out to be a very natural move. The result was a fish stew that in France is now as famous than the meat version.
Blanquette de poisson works so well because the white sauce supports the seafood rather than overwhelming it. A heavy braise or a sharp tomato sauce can easily fight with delicate fish and win. This french fish stew does the opposite, it lifts the flavour and adds richness without ever getting in the way.
Why cod and salmon together
Using both cod and salmon gives a more interesting result than either fish alone. Cod brings a firm, flaky texture and a clean mild flavour that soaks up the sauce well. Salmon contributes richness and natural oils that enrich the cooking liquid as it gently poaches. Together they give this cod stew a depth that a single fish version simply can’t match.
The key with cod is not to rush it. Gently poached, it stays in satisfying flakes that hold together in the sauce. Cooked too fast or at too high a heat, it breaks apart and loses that lovely texture. Keep the heat low, treat it gently, and it will reward you for it.
The right pot for this French fish stew
A fish blanquette like this needs a pot that holds heat steadily and gently from start to finish. I make mine in a Staub cocotte 28 cm, which is the right size for four generous servings. The cast iron keeps the temperature even throughout, which is exactly what this kind of sauce needs, and the enamel interior means no metallic taste in the delicate white sauce. It also goes straight from hob to table!
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