Cassoulet à la Dany Chouet

                                                                            A beautiful end of March at Malcournet

It was Monday, the last day in March, when Dany Chouet (the 'midwife of modern Australian cuisine') and Trish Hobbs recruited their dear friend Appley Hoare, Australian friends Jim and Ann who were staying nearby and ourselves to help burn the garden rubbish at the bottom meadow of their gorgeous garden at Malcournet. The bribe? Dany's famous cassoulet, one of the favourite dishes served back in the day at Trish and Dany's much loved restaurant, Cleopatra, up in the Blue Mountains of Australia.

As Dany wrote in her award-winning book, So French: 

In the South West, the Cassoulet, symbolic dish of Occitanie, has achieved national mythical status, and has as many recipes as communes.  It is a complete meal, does not need anything before and very little after, except maybe a small glass of Armagnac.  The cassoulet, one of my favourite meals to cook, gathers together all the ingredients I love.  The haricot beans, such a wonderful dry vegetable, give the creaminess, and act as a liason between the meats and soak up all the flavours, laced with tomato.  The roasted pork stays moist and becomes tastier, the confit is in its’ best surroundings.  And I rolled up my two star ingredients, garlic and parsley, into the pork skin. 

My cassoulet is far from being ‘Catholique’ as we say in French (or according to the rules) and is not made in the traditional way, but as Prosper Montagné (famous Occitan chef, author of the Larousse Gastronomique) said:  ‘only badly informed people say there is only one way to make cassoulet’.

It's a very hearty dish, and Dany and Trish reckoned that March (unusually mild this spring in France) might mark the end of cassoulet-eating season. It's also not something one does at the spur of the moment, so just to document the process we asked the girls to take some pics. So here is how Dany's three step recipe goes (omitting the essential pre-step of ordering the proper cuts of pork from one's friendly local butcher).

Step 1. The Marinade

½ head of garlic, peeled

1 bunch flat-leafed parsley

salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 small neck of pork (scotch fillet)

1 kg lean pork belly

800g pork skins, without fat

1.5 litres dry white wine

black peppercorns

1 large bouquet garni (fresh thyme, parsley stalks, bay leaf)

The day before:  Finely chop half a head of garlic and parsley and mix well together.

Remove excess fat from pork neck and tidy the meat by trimming.  Pierce holes along the meat and insert salt, pepper and the garlic and parsley mixture deep into the meat.  Tie up with string like a roast.  Leave the skin on the pork belly, remove bones but reserve them for use later.

Arrange the pork skins flat on the board, season normally with salt and freshly ground pepper then spread thickly with the garlic and parsley mixture.  

Roll up like a thick sausage and tie with string at 1.5 cm intervals.

Place the three cuts of meat in a large container.  Cover with 1.5 litres of white wine, sprinkle over one tablespoon of whole black peppercorns and immerse the bouquet garni.  Cover and place in the refrigerator.  Before going to bed at night, turn the meats around in the marinade.

Step 2: preparing the dish: 

1 kg white Great Northern or cannellini  beans

1 whole brown onion, studded with 2 cloves

1 bay leaf

250g smoked pork speck, diced

60g duck fat

3 medium carrots, diced into 1 cm cubes

3-4 large onions, diced small

4 large very ripe tomatoes peeled deseeded and chopped (or 800g tinned Italian peeled tomatoes)

½ head garlic, peeled

1.5 litres chicken or pork or duck stock.

The bones reserved from the pork belly.

On the day, or one day ahead of serving:  Place the beans in a large pot, cover generously with cold water, add the studded onion and the bay leaf.  Bring to the boil and cook for about 30 minutes.

Strain the beans into a colander and refresh in cold water. Discard the onion and the bay leaf and leave the beans to drain.

Take the meat from the marinade and strain.  Heat oven to 200 degrees C and roast the neck only, basting often with a little of the marinade.  Cook for about one hour and 15 minutes, then remove and set aside.  Collect the roasting juices and set aside for use later.

At the same time in a large thick-based pot, fry the smoked speck with duck fat until golden, then add diced carrots and onions.

Sauté gently for about 15 minutes without browning.  Add the tomato flesh, reduce to a nice, thick consistency.  Season with freshly ground black pepper only.

Add the drained beans, mix together with the sauce, pour in the remaining strained marinade, and bring gently to the boil.

Bury the pork belly and skin roll into the beans, as well as the bouquet garni and the reserved pork bones.  Chop the garlic and add to the beans.  Bring the level of liquid up with the chicken stock, until it rests about 2 cm above the beans.

Do not stir the mixture any more.  Let it simmer, covered, for at least one and a half hours, maybe more, checking the meats with a skewer to see if they are done.

Remove the meats from the pot as soon as they are cooked.  Set aside with the roast pork neck and let cool.  If they are to be used the day after, let them cool and keep well covered and sealed in the refrigerator.  Pour beans out of the pot into a bowl and stir to equalise the flavours.  Discard the bouquet garni and the pork bones.

Step 3, serving the cassoulet: 

6 thick pork sausages, Toulouse type, cut in half

12 confit duck legs 

about 1 cup breadcrumbs

1 large garlic clove, crushed

1 bunch flat leaved parsley, chopped

Heat the oven to 200C. Half fill a large earthenware oven dish with the beans, thickly slice the roast pork and the pork belly, slice the skin roll thinly, grill the pork sausages on one side only, remove the duck legs from their fat.

Arrange in alternating slices, embedding into the beans the duck legs, pork neck slices, belly slices, skin slices and sausages (place grilled side on top).  

Bury all meats halfway into the beans and pour the roast pork jus all over.

Mix together the breadcrumbs, one large crushed clove of garlic and chopped parsley and sprinkle generously all over the top.  

Drizzle a little liquid duck fat on top of the breadcrumbs to crisp them.

 Bake in the oven for  30-40 minutes, until golden brown on top, very hot, and sizzling around the edges. Serves 8-12 people.  (Can be re-heated the next day). 

While all this lovely bean and meat alchemy was happening in Malcournet's kitchen, the bonfire down at the bottom of the meadow had nearly burned out.

Time for a glass of rosé after all our labours, and piping hot cassoulet in the garden. The heady aroma of beans, duck and pork made our mouths water. 

It didn't all fit in one clay pot, so there was a mama and a baby cassoulet. 

The  delicate harmony of the flavours in the cassoulet was absolutely delicious!

It was one of those perfect spring days. Music was provided by a nightingale warbling in a nearby tree, and as we wended our way home just before the sun went down, we all hoped that the spring bonfire cassoulet becomes an annual event. Thank you, Dany and Trish! Their book So French is packed with similar delicious recipes (and great stories!); pick up a copy on Amazon—it's now available on Kindle, too.

Ducking Down at La Serpt

There is a tiny hamlet with the curious snaky name of La Serpt, miles from anywhere (the closest town is Villefranche du Périgord), with a stone farmhouse, built in 1730. Actually it could just as well have been built in 1630 or 1870; things around here change pretty slowly. You realize that just in the getting there, over the meadows and through the woods; it's a journey back in time, to a sweet and peaceful place.

Like many traditional farms here, this one here has always raised ducks, and for over two decades at least, it has also functioned as a farm restaurant, a ferme auberge. When we first moved here, there were four pretty good ones in easy driving distance; now there is only one, Aux Délices de la Serpt (although everyone just calls it La Serpt) but it’s exceptional, the Ritz of ferme auberges.

Like La Terrasse, it’s small (with only 30 covers or so) and you have to book. Only at La Serpt there is no guessing about what’s on the menu. But that’s just how their clients like it. Everyone who likes duck, that is. If you don’t, stop reading now!

We recently went with first-timers Betsy, Susanna, Nancy, and Harvey, and locals Marianne, Laurence and Tom. Only two decisions are required: basically, agonizing between the foie gras (on the €25 menu) or other ducky treats (on the €23 menu) for your starter, and then, the confit de canard (duck leg and thigh, preserved in its own fat) or magret de canard (the steak-like duck breast) for the main course. There is also duck sausage, which is also delicious, but the confits and magrets are so amazing that 99% of the customers choose one of those.

Wine and coffee are included, as is the apéro—a fénelon. In the 17^th century, the erudite François Fénelon from Périgord was archbishop of Cambrai, poet, writer and tutor of the son of the king of France, but just how his name became attached to Quercy’s traditional aperitif (equal parts vin de Cahors, walnut liqueur and crème de cassis) is a mystery. Maybe he guzzled them when he was a student at the long-gone University of Cahors?  The Fénelons had one of the great châteaux of Périgord. It’s only about a half-hour away, east of Sarlat; you could visit before lunch.

For those who have been to the Serpt before and know what’s coming, the apéro is the gastric equivalent of the opening da da da dum of Beethoven’s Fifth. First comes the  tourin, La Serpt’s take on the local garlic and duck fat soup, filled with country bread and molten cheese. This is truly the stuff soup dreams are made of, and the first dish Michael learned to synthesize at home after we moved here (it’s also an excellent hangover cure!). When you get to the bottom, it’s time to faire chabrol (sloshing the dregs of soup around with a splash of red wine); if you don’t perform the ritual they’ll think you’re a Parisian or worse.

Next comes a generous serving of the rich foie gras made on the farm, or (on the €23 menu) pâté with foie gras, or a salad made with warm gésiers (gizzards, preserved in duck fat. like the confits), or my favourite, the salade fermière, with gésiers and thin slices of smoked magret along with  fritons de canard (fried skin and fat—a bit like duck porkies or pork rinds, I guess, but a gourmet treat).

Then in a waft of heavenly aroma the main event on big platters: golden crisp confits or succulent magrets grilled and topped with a light cream sauce. Gorgeous potatoes sautéed in duck fat and garlic, with nice brown crispy bits everyone digs into. Plates are wiped clean, belts are adjusted out a notch.

It is useful at this point to recall the so called French Paradox (first theorized in 1819 by Dr Samuel Black of Ireland, long before 1991 when  60 Minutes introduced it to the United States) and remember that duck fat, garlic and red wine, combined together, are good for you!

Next, cheese. More bread. More wine.  Somehow we manage to squeeze in nibbles of fresh, tangy Rocamadour cabecou (the local AOC goat cheese) or Cantal entre deux (the local hard yellow cheese).

Orders are taken for dessert: here too there is a choice and all are of the comfort homemade variety. Our daughter Lily always talks about her ‘dessert’ compartment, which has nothing to do with the rest of her stomach, and I think most of us must possess one because we somehow managed to polish off the chocolate and pear bavarois, the fig tart and crème caramel, without bursting.

Those who would not be returning for a while bought tins of foie gras and confits in the Serpt’s little shop to take home. If you like, you can have a peek in the barn and pick out a duck for next time (as if you could tell one from the other).

You’ll be lucky to get out in less than three hours; you’ll be lucky if you can still walk. There’s a good reason why you have to book a Sunday at the Serpt long in advance—because after all this delicious food and wine, the rest of the day tends to be a total write off, devoted mainly to naps.

I forgot the camera again, but Harvey and Marianne were better prepared: thanks to them for sharing their photos.

    

                                                                      —Tennessee girl learns to faire chabrol

La Serpt, tel 05 65 36 66 15
How to get there: La Serpt is on the D28 between Puy-L'Évêque and Villefranche-du-Périgord. There are directions on its website (rather endearingly the menu here is still in francs—they haven't had one printed for years!) 

Franco-Italian (con)Fusion: Tagliatelle al Confit de Canard

When we had written about every square inch of Italy, we were ordered by our publisher to leave Umbria for southwest France, where there were several surprises, starting with the price of truffles. In Umbria’s Valnerina, where we lived, even impecunious travel writers could occasionally splurge on spaghetti al tartufo nero in a trattoria; in the Lot, even though we live a mere 45 minutes from the big truffle market in Lalbenque, they are a pricey indulgence reserved for times when someone else is paying.

What compensated for the paucity of truffles was the omnipresence of duck, and to a lesser extent goose. Fatted duck, to be precise, to make foie gras, and along with the foie gras come numerous duck by-products, most importantly the maigret, or breast (usually grilled like a steak), and the thighs (cuisses) and gizzards (gésiers), which are put up in jars or tins and slowly cooked in their own fat and preserved as confits de canard; the gizzards end up in a salade quercynoise with lettuce and walnut oil, and maybe some smoked duck breast or ham.

Even the duck carcasses, curiously known as demoiselles, are preserved, and barbecued in the summer by the locals at the ferme auberges, restaurants run by farm families—in the southwest, they’re nearly always on duck farms.

Jewish communities in Venice introduced a similar dish to the Veneto. Oca in onto (goose preserved in fat) is pretty much the same thing as confit d’oie; the onto of course, being a tasty substitute for forbidden lard in soups, sauces and other dishes. The Jews also make elaborate dishes such as frisinsal de tagiadele: tagliatelle cooked in a rich chicken stock, with goose salame or meatballs, or even shredded roast chicken, pine nuts and sultanas, all baked in the oven in the shape of a ring (more or less; recipes vary widely).

My own recipe that is much simpler, invented one day when there were four for dinner, but only two confits in the fridge. The solution: put them on pasta. Eccoci qua! Voilà!

Proportions are to your own taste but in general what you need for four servings are:

4 cloves of garlic, chopped

400 gr mushrooms, thickly sliced. Even better if you have shitakes or porcini

A few big spoonfuls of duck fat (remember this is the ‘other olive oil’ and good for you!)

Two duck confits

Big handful of parsley, chopped

Salt and pepper

Truffle oil (if you want to be fancy)

A small carton of thick cream (roughly 20cl, or 6-7 fluid ounces)

Tagliatelle for four

If your confits are in a tin, open it and place on a low flame until you can extract the meat from the liquified fat. Take off the fatty skin and give it to the cat (if they are a French cat like our Brutus, they will insist on it!). Shred the meat from the bone, which is easiest done with your fingers, but really greasy.  Half way through this, the phone will inevitably ring…

Meanwhile, boil the water for the pasta, as the sauce takes about ten minutes.

Use some of the duck fat to sauté the garlic. Store the rest of the fat in the fridge in a sealed container to sauté potatoes.

When the garlic is soft, add the mushrooms and fry until soft. If they seem too dry, throw in a knob of butter.

Add the shredded confits to the mushrooms. Remember they they're already cooked so only need to be heated through; when warm, add the cream, then salt. Keep warm until the pasta is al dente. Toss in a few spoonfuls of the cream from the sauce, then top with the confits and mushrooms and a twist or two of the pepper mill, chopped parsley, and if you like, drizzle with truffle oil, to remind yourself of the good old days in Umbria.