I’m Kayla, and I eat a lot of fish. I cooked it. I bought it fresh. I even carried a bag of sardines on a train once. So yes, this is real. Not a brochure. Just me, a pan, and some fish from France.
Curious about the full saga? I wrote a longer piece you can dive into right here.
Where I Bought It (And What Happened)
- Marché d’Aligre, Paris: I got one dorade royale (gilt-head bream) for 16 €/kg. Eyes were clear. Gills looked bright. The seller cleaned it fast and smiled twice. I pan-fried it that night. Skin went crisp. The bones were sneaky though.
- Concarneau, Brittany: A small stall by the harbor sold me sardines that still smelled like the sea. I grilled them on a cheap cast-iron plancha. Fat popped. Skin blistered. My fingers smelled like smoke and salt. I didn’t mind.
- Monoprix, Rue de Rennes, Paris: I grabbed sea bass (bar). It said “ligne” on the label, which means line-caught. It wasn’t cheap. But it baked well in foil with lemon and fennel. Clean taste. No mud note.
- Picard (the frozen place): I tried frozen monkfish (lotte) tails. Texture held up. I did a mild curry with coconut milk. It wasn’t pretty, but it was hearty and sweet.
- Cans for the train: La Belle-Iloise sardines in olive oil. Tin was tidy. Fish was firm, rich, and a bit peppery. Bread, butter, and that tin turned into a fast lunch on the TGV. The seat next to me stayed empty. I get why.
Dishes I Cooked That Actually Worked
Sole Meunière in Nice
Small Airbnb, tiny stove, one heavy pan. I salted the sole, dusted it in a little flour, and browned it in butter. Lemon and parsley on top. It tasted soft, a bit nutty, and clean. The butter browned just right. My shirt smelled like a bistro. And because Nice always nudges you toward the sea, I later wandered down to Paloma Beach to let the butter fumes mix with the Med breeze.
Sardines à la Plancha in Brittany
High heat. No fuss. Oil, salt, a squeeze of lemon. Bones? Many. But they slid off if I ate slow. The flavor was loud in a good way—fat, smoke, sea.
Bar en Papillote in Paris
Sea bass in parchment with fennel, thyme, and a slice of orange. Steam did the work. Flesh stayed silky. The juice at the bottom was gold on rice. Not fancy, but felt fancy.
Mackerel Rillettes in Lyon
I poached mackerel in milk with bay leaf. Flaked it with crème fraîche, lemon zest, and chives. Spread on toast. It tasted bright and creamy. Cheap fish, big win.
What I Loved
- Freshness: Fish from Brittany and Normandy tasted bright and clean. Not fishy. Just briny.
- Simple cooking: Salt, heat, lemon. That’s it. The fish carries itself.
- Variety: Dorade, bar, merlu (hake), rouget (red mullet), monkfish. Markets had range.
- Labels: I liked seeing “Label Rouge” or “MSC.” Not perfect, but it helped.
- Price swings: Sardines and mackerel were friendly on my wallet. Turbot? Not so much.
What Bugged Me
- Bones: Dorade and sardines had pin bones that hid like tiny traps. Not great for kids.
- Smell at home: One bad choice lingers. Open a window. Keep baking soda in the fridge.
- Price jumps: Turbot and line-caught sea bass can sting. I paid 34 €/kg once. Yikes.
- Language: Labels in French can be tricky. “Élevé” means farmed. “Ligne” is line-caught. “Bar” is sea bass, not a place to drink.
- Scale snow: My sink looked like it had glitter. Wet paper towels helped. Still a pain.
Taste Notes That Stuck With Me
- Dorade: Sweet, mild, and juicy. Great with thyme and a splash of white wine.
- Sardines: Bold, fatty, and smoky on the grill. Lemon is not optional. It’s the key.
- Sea bass: Clean and elegant. Skin crisps like a chip if you dry it well.
- Monkfish: Meaty and a bit sweet. Think “poor person’s lobster,” but don’t tell lobster.
- Mackerel: Oily and rich. Loves acid. Loves mustard. Loves you back.
Little Tips I Learned the Hard Way
- Look at the eyes. Clear is good. Cloudy means skip it.
- Check gills. You want bright red or pink. Not brown.
- Ask what’s from Brittany or Normandy that day. Sellers will tell you if you smile.
- Dry the skin. Salt it. Pat it again. That’s how you get crisp in the pan.
- If you’re nervous, bake it in foil (en papillote). Less mess. Hard to mess up.
- Rinse your cutting board with cold water first. Hot water sets the smell.
Quick Store Shoutouts
- Marché d’Aligre, Paris: Best for choice and chatter. Go early. Bring cash.
- Monoprix/Carrefour: Fine if you pick well. Look for “ligne” and harvest dates.
- Picard: Frozen monkfish and hake were solid on busy nights.
- La Belle-Iloise (cans): Train-proof, picnic-proof, life-proof.
- If you find yourself on the Riviera, the fish stalls near Atoll Hotel in Fréjus are worth a morning detour—clean counters, friendly vendors, and sea views while you shop.
For more tips on sourcing sustainable seafood and planning a food-focused trip, check out the detailed guides on JustFrance.
Who Will Like It
- Weeknight cooks who want fast meals.
- Grill folks who enjoy smoke and skin.
- People who like simple food that tastes alive.
- Not great for anyone who hates bones or smells. That’s fair.
My Verdict
Fish from France treated me well. When it was fresh, it sang. When I paid up, I usually got what I hoped for. And when I went cheap but smart—hello sardines and mackerel—I ate like a queen on a budget.
Would I buy it again? Yep. With clear eyes, a hot pan, and a lemon close by.
If you try it, start simple: one dorade, salt, pepper, a little butter, and a squeeze of lemon. You know what? That might be dinner sorted.
And if that easy fish dinner for two has you thinking about ways to keep the rest of the evening just as flavorful, you might appreciate these candid wives-sex stories—an adults-only collection of real experiences and playful advice that can spark fresh ideas for date-night intimacy.
Plus, if your future travels swap crusty baguettes for Cuban sandwiches and land you in sunny South Florida, you can explore a more human kind of connection through a trusted, LGBTQ-friendly service like a trans escort in Doral who offers safe, affirming companionship and local insider tips to make your night every bit as memorable as any French feast.