French Lavender sets the stage
“Mes chers amis.
I have been occasionally making cassoulet for almost four decades. It is a dish of meat, white beans, and other stuff from southwest France. It was never amazing…”
My eyes brightened. This was no ordinary email.
Karen went on to explain that during her youth she and Bob drove their 1972 Fiat through southwest France several times, unaware of the history of Cathar country. After raising four children to adulthood and enjoying various careers, it was time to make up for youthful ignorance. Last spring Karen returned to southwest France with her niece and a friend.
“All the medieval towns and Cathar strongholds were a dream come true, and Carcassonne, Toulouse, and Castelnaudary were cassoulet central,” Karen wrote of her trip. Her Airbnb hostess Caroline “pointed me toward the certified Maitres du Cassoulet of Carcassonne: Oui, there are at least two certifying French societies for cassoulet chefs. They have actual diplomas and awards and regular competitions from village to village. Comment Française.”
Long story short, at a charming terrace restaurant in Carcassonne she ordered cassoulet and vins du Langue d’Oc, “and the rest languishes in a mist of ecstasy.”
Cassoulet x 4
After Karen’s recent Midi Pyrenees experience, she felt compelled to match the magic of cassoulet on this side of the Atlantic.
She decided the secret of the slow-cooked casserole was using authentic duck confit and good quality garlic sausage. So, on September 24, she sent out an email invitation to her supper club tasters plus one (moi) and began investigating recipes, bean types and preparation, crust formation, meat options, the breadcrumb controversy, cooking vessel materials and shapes—all of the ingredients needed to re-create the cassoulet of southern France in Kutztown, PA. Guests were asked to chip in for the main meat ingredients, bring French accompaniments, and a bottle of wine from the region. Ooh-la-la!
Five days later a date was set (November 4), as was the contribution, $10 each. And the fun begins.
October 10: Karen orders ingredients and plans her cooking schedule.
October 26: “The duck confit is waiting in a big can in my larder and I am working on the other ingredients.”
October 27: After much research, Karen settles on a final cassoulet recipe from The Cooking of Southwest France: Recipes from France’s Magnificent Rustic Cuisine by Paula Wolfert.
She attaches the recipe. It’s four pages long. The ingredients include pork shoulder, ham hock or pig’s knuckles, fresh pork skin, rendered duck fat, lean salt pork, chicken stock, six confit of duck legs, drumsticks and thighs, hard pork fat, garlic-flavored pork sausages—definitely a fete de carne à la Française—dried white beans (Tarais, Lingots or Cannellini) and an assortment of vegetables, herbs, aromatics, and walnut oil.
Now just typing the above paragraph has me exhausted, but you have to understand, for Karen, there is no happier place than her kitchen. If she has two hands on the computer keyboard, she probably has a pot of confit des oignons finishing on the stove, not to mention two full refrigerators in her larder, a third in the kitchen, and shelves of chutneys, preserves, and dried, homegrown herbs.
The challenge ahead energizes Karen. “This may be my most ambitious cooking project ever, and I am very excited. Thanks for sharing it with me and helping to make it possible!”
Voilà! Let the countdown begin!
Nov. 1: “Bob took me to pick up all the meats I ordered today and is at Echo Hill getting me cannellini beans. I’ve blanched the salt pork, now cutting, seasoning, and overnighting pork shoulder and ham hocks. Soon the beans will be soaking. Then, real cooking tomorrow ‘til Saturday.”
Nov. 2: “I have adapted the recipe to make the dish over four instead of three days, which lessens my daily workload, especially on the last day. I also show below the final ingredients tally. Luckily, the price per person came in just under $10. As you can see, the duck confit alone costs $74.80.
“I’m really happy to have the opportunity to make an authentic version of this epic dish! Back to the kitchen.”
Nov. 3: “… I am also now removing meat and fat from duck and pork bones along with some other tasks to prepare for the final assembly of the cassoulet tomorrow …”
Nov. 4: The other dinner guests are scheduled to arrive at 6 p.m. Since I was driving from State College and spending the night, I arrive at 1 p.m. to “help” Karen prepare. I stash my overnight bag in the guest room. Downstairs, the tables are set with lovely blue-and-white china and a huge pot of French (of course) lavender. Four earthenware casseroles of cassoulet are bubbling in the oven.
Hostess Karen
Karen and I sit together sipping tea and water, catching up on each other’s lives and kids. Then we walk through her garden where a beautiful peach-colored climbing rose (Karen called it by name) is blooming and honeysuckle unfurls on a trellis. We see the last of Bob’s butternut squash extravaganza twining across the garden. As the sun eases into the trees, guests arrive.
Jasperdean has a selection of French cheeses. I arrange my pickled topinambour (Jerusalem artichokes) and olives on the hors d’oeuvres table. Ann T. baked baguettes. Ann P. made a celeriac salad that is cool and light, the perfect accompaniment to the hearty cassoulet. Susan carries in a Tarte Tatin with caramel sauce. And yes, the fellows appear with plenty of wine.
By now, you must suspect that Karen is a bit of a perfectionist. At the end of the meal, she said she wasn’t happy with the cassoulet—it was a lot of work (four days) and it just didn’t measure up to what she remembered being served to her in France.
For me, the sense of culinary adventure, a delicious meal, the attention to detail, the warmth of rekindling old acquaintances and gathering with new friends around the table is the beauty of terroir, in France or in Kutztown. Avec des compagnons chaleureuse et une assiette savoureuse, on s’amuse. Laurie Lynch
Written on Slate: “Better to eat vegetables and fear no creditors, than eat duck and hide from them.” The Talmud.
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