A fine piece of salmon poached gently in a court-bouillon of Rhine wine, topped with a fresh green herb sauce bound with breadcrumbs and vinegar. The festive dish of the riverine bourgeoisie.

Why this dish? The Rhine, Gutenberg's river, once teemed with salmon so abundant they fed rich and poor. For a baptism, a guild feast, or the conclusion of a contract — like the one that bound him to the lender Johann Fust — the noble fish of the river was a must on the table.

When I had to entertain properly, I had a fine salmon pulled from the river — God knows there were plenty in our Rhine back then. It was barely poached, in clear wine from our hillsides, so that its flesh remained pink and melting. Then my household would pound all the green herbs from the garden in a mortar, bound with a dash of vinegar and breadcrumbs: that sauce, fresh and tangy, delights the eye as much as the palate. Believe me, such a dish was well worth a notary's signature.

How it was made : Until the 19th century, salmon was so common in the Rhine that servants are said to have sometimes demanded not to eat it too often. Green sauces made from pounded herbs, ancestors of the famous *Grüne Soße* of the Frankfurt region, are attested in medieval Germanic cuisines. They were bound with breadcrumbs rather than raw egg.

The contemporary twist : Plated on slate with a swoosh of green sauce and a few chive flowers, this ancient dish becomes a plate of riverine bistronomy.

Gutenberg · Charactorium