The first time I had a papillote, I was in France.  When I broke into the paper, the escaping steam carried scents of wine, lemon and perfectly cooked fish. I was at once overwhelmed and, quite frankly intoxicated by the smells and the promise of the deliciousness about to come. “Papillotes” translates into “in paper”. They are little packets of parchment with goodness folded inside.  The sorts of things can be ‘en papillote” are near limitless, but today we use a beautiful, firm whitefish topped with sundried tomatoes and preserved lemons.