He had tasted it a couple of times at the Geneva restaurant that gave it its name. Also in other places and in multiple versions by different chefs. He had tried it, because of its delicious flavor and its mythical reputation for complexity. In our passionate discussions as young cooking lovers, some of our classmates talked about kilometric recipes that included several dozen ingredients.

I’m referring to Café de Paris sauce. To the creamy sauce or its mother, the compound butter of the same name that so lovingly coats entrecôtes and other grilled meats.

But it had been a long time since I had tried it either in the kitchen or at the table. You know how this works, we go from everything to nothing and from nothing to everything.

A few months ago I enjoyed an excellent meal in the company of gourmets and journalists in one of the Goût Rouge group restaurants led by Romain Fornell.

I have known Romain since his time at the Maison du Languedoc Rousillon if I’m not mistaken, years before he returned to Barcelona to set up the first Caelis, already with his aura of a young star from Toulouse. There is no doubt that his name is a guarantee of good cuisine.

I must have been commenting on one of these little battles (it’s what people my age usually do, be understanding) when they served us a plate with Café de Paris sauce. I then excitedly remembered my love for such a sauce and tried to identify some of its many components; herbs, spices, liqueurs, anchovies…

When he approached the table, I congratulated the chef and asked him what the main ingredients were in this, his Café de Paris, which I had loved. “-Very simple: chicken liver, herbs…”

Chicken’s liver? I didn’t remember any version that included it. Although she was very rich, really.

Well, if you are curious, you can now find the recipe for Fornell’s Café de Paris sauce in a brand new recipe book written by him and entirely dedicated to this type of liquid culinary preparations, more or less thick, that accompany different dishes so well. , to give them juiciness, creaminess and flavor.

As well explained by that close genius called Albert Adrià in the prologue of this ¡Salsa! (Planeta Gastro), the saucer’s game was the most respected in classical and Nouvelle Cuisine cuisines. So let’s put our hats on high and interpret some of the many sauces that such a commendable work includes and that Fornell explains in a clear, simple and practical way.

For my part, since variety is the key, I dare to suggest that not only the aioli, but also the mayonnaise with excellent virgin olive oils of your taste, and you will tell me.

I finish with another easy emulsified sauce, of my own, that I made recently to accompany some roasted artichokes. Crush and emulsify at the same time, with the blender, an egg, a clove of garlic, a teaspoon of mustard, a few toasted and peeled hazelnuts, a small portion of good crumbled sobrasada and the best oil; more salt, a few drops of water so that it does not cut – or lemon if it is difficult – and some pepper or hot paprika for those who like the sauce.

¡Saborrrr!