Bouillabaisse Bust

My apartment was a wreck. Mountains of clothes were everywhere, my bookshelves, an avalanche waiting to happen, and my kitchen table so crowded with dirty glasses and unopened mail that it was easier to eat on the floor in the living room than clear a space at the table. In an attempt to exert some control over the chaos of my living space, I started cleaning out the fridge and freezer. Not exactly the most obvious place to start the de-cluttering of my life, but a small step is better than no step. In the midst of this freezer purge, I took out what I thought was chicken stock, planning to make a butternut squash soup. Turned out, I thawed lobster stock instead, so I decided to make a bouillabaisse. Things didn’t go my way. I wanted a dense, rich stew and ended up with a thin, brothy soup. Even more frustrating was that I had to throw down some serious cash for the dish because I don’t normally stock Pernod or saffron. After also buying the seafood, fresh herbs, and a fennel bulb, I had everything I needed to create the dish I craved, but instead of a meal that took me to the coast of Provence, it tasted like something more befitting a tenement in the early 1900s.

To sum up, not only did I fail in my cooking efforts, but I managed to bring yet another item into my apartment. Pernod, anyone?