Caciucco | A Bowl of Red Sea

Viareggio's fisherman's soup, one letter shorter than Livorno's, and the rule about where not to order it.

My father gets halászlé every Christmas. He buys it from a restaurant. He never makes it at home. It’s the Hungarian fisherman’s soup, paprika-red, made from carp and catfish and whatever the rivers gave up that week. He eats it without noodles, just the red liquid, fish, and of course, a huge loaf of white bread. I don’t really like it, to be honest. R…