When I worked the fish station at Troquet, a now-shuttered bistro that overlooked Boston Common, I prepared anywhere from four to six different dishes during each service. Most involved a smoking-hot pan for crisping skin-on striped bass fillets or searing scallops, but every so often my chef would run a dish that offered a reprieve from all that sizzling heat.
It was à la nage, French for “in the swim” and for the classic method of gently poaching and serving fish in a fragrant broth. To make it, I’d slip a fillet of something flaky and white like halibut or cod into a pan filled with gently simmering broth. It only took minutes for the fish to cook through and turn silky, at which point I’d gently usher it from the pan into a shallow serving bowl. Then I’d ladle a light broth over it for serving—either the poaching liquid that I’d strained and spruced up with simple seasonings or a fish-based stock that I had at the ready; embellish the bowl with whatever colorful, high-flavor garnishes were
