Filet de Sole: Casserolettes de Lasserre
There’s no entry for filet de sole in The Treasury, nor for the casserolettes they are served in. Yet, Price describes them as ” . . . Lasserre’s famous casserolettes . . .” Nor are these pastries and sole shown on Lasserre’s website today. However, what you will find is a brief reference to Club Casserole accompanied by a black and white picture of a woman standing in an enormous saucepan dousing her nearly naked self with champagne.
You’ll also find some of the story—some—of Chef Rene Lasserre’s infamous first restaurant where he entertained luminaries just after World War II with wild galas, haute cuisine, and these tiny casserolettes of filet de sole. This is surely where Price had dinner. It was where everyone famous had dinner. It was Lasserre’s personal, wild cabal.
In 1951, Lasserre remodeled the original property, which was a repurposed hanger, and built the luxurious mansion wherein the restaurant remains to this day. I have no notes on when Price would have visited this restaurant, but it was probably not during German occupation. It may, however, have been almost immediately after. Surely Lasserre treated Price to his unique, luxurious, perhaps slightly scandalous hospitality. And to casserolettes de filets de sole, which are exquisite.
This filet de sole recipe only looks hard
When you get down to it, this is actually a pretty easy dish with a HUGE payoff of impressing the hell out of your guests. The dish is just poached sole, bechamel, and pastry. None of that is particularly difficult—and Price makes it even easier in the Treasury by recommending you use frozen pastry dough. Now, I know you’re a stickler for authenticity and wouldn’t dream of using frozen pastry dough. That’s why I’ve included a recipe for pate choux, which is puff pastry and is easier than you think. However, it does require a little technique so buckle up.
No Pate Choux for You!
Price was notorious culinary cheater (as re all great chefs). He knew who he was writing for: 1960s housewives who ran poorly equipped kitchens with zero training in culinary techniques. At Lasserre, I am almost certain the kitchen whipped up a batch of pate choux for the pie crusts in this recipe. But Price doesn’t even pretend. He advised the cook to use frozen patty shells (yes, patty shells, not pastry shells; they are a thing). If you are comfortable making pate choux or you are confident you can learn how from the nine gazillion videos on YouTube, by all means, get your dough on. But there’s something to be said for frozen puff pastry dough. It’s cheap. It’s easy. It saves time.
I have failed to cook filet de sole
Failed hard. First of all, I couldn’t get my hands on filet de sole to save my ass so I settled for cod. This was, perhaps, a poor choice. First, it didn’t smell great. This doesn’t mean the fish is bad, though it is a perfectly acceptable reason to 86 the cod. But you can fix a slightly fishy smell with a salt bath or a lemon bath. Usually. I salted my fish then rinsed it off and it was much better so I decided to proceed with poaching it in fish stock in the oven.
Meanwhile, I made velouté sauce on the stove with some of the juices of the cod and fish stock. As it heated up, the fishy smell got bigger and bigger. I tempered it into a bechamel and convinced myself I was just “smelling things” because I didn’t want to go to the store for more fish. But as I tested and tested the sauce it never got better and I finally poured it down the drain and made a new sauce from scratch, using fresh fish stock.
Price broke the sauce in the recipe down into two sections: make a bechamel then stir some reduced fish stock into it just before assembly. When I saw this, I realized he was just making sauce velouté. Well, I thought that’s what he was doing. The dumbing-things-down-for-1960s-housewives thing can get into your head. I’m still not sure if he was taking the intimidation out of making sauce velouté or there is a reason to do it this way.
It might be a visual thing. If you wait to add the fish stock, there’s a chance you can preserve the beautiful white color of the bechamel—maybe. I could not. But the sauce is damn good. It’s one of the mother sauces and as you get good at it, you can tweak it with herbs and other additives to make it yours or better complement a dish.
Why is the asparagus on the bottom?
I struggled with this part of the recipe. I couldn’t understand why the chef at Lasserre—presumably René Lasserre—would bury the asparagus tips under the sauce. They would look beautiful placed carefully on top of the casserolette. Perhaps it is to keep the crust from getting soggy? This is why I suffer from my lack of culinary education. But then I reread the recipe. I realized I’m an idiot—the floor of the shell is covered with buttery shrooms. I just don’t get it. In my version, I advise you to top the casserolette with the asparagus tips. They are a textural and visual complement to the velvety sauce.