fri24aug2012: foie gras

Foie gras gets a lot of attention. It's expensive, it's extravagant, it's delicious. It's also controversial, the target of media campaigns directed at farming methods, restaurants have come under pressure to strike it from menus, animal rights activists have called for it to be banned, in some parts of the world successfully. I've been spending time in the Lot & Dordogne regions of south west France, traditionally the home of foie gras, where people speak with culinary pride about the traditions of their region, & indeed the industry shows no signs of waning. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

 Foie gras (translation fat liver) traditionally from the Toulouse goose, more recently the Moulard duck, farmed for the qualities of the breed, mainly size, more recently temperament, the bird is fattened on corn, hand-fed additional rations in the last two weeks before slaughter, a process which fattens the liver. The whole bird is used. In specialty shops & supermarkets alike packets/jars/cans of the cooked foie gras, of pâté, terrine, rillettes & confit line the shelves, as well as breast meat & leg, carcasses for stocks, sausages & other small goods, all alongside the other products these regions are renowned for, walnut oils & vinegars, prune liqueurs, goat cheeses. Anyway, indulging in this kind of regional food reverie is one thing, serious investigation requires action.

In the mood for a little sightseeing, we stopped in at a foie gras producer & supplier's, quite a large place & all by itself, situated roadside just out of Cahors, for inspection & tasting. After buying as much foie gras in as many forms as I could, for research purposes, & stashing them back at home for later, the next stop was to see what happens up close.

 

  

The hope was to get me into an actual foie gras farm, to see what I could see with my own two eyes. There are loads of these places round here, but picking up a tourist brochure we found ferme de Grezelade, located between Payrac & Lanzac, where at 5pm on Tuesdays & Fridays we could join a group & see some ducks being fed. The farm was home to some 2400 ducks, kept in separate areas: younger ducklings being reared, maturing ducks grazing in the fields, ducks kept indoors for their final two weeks. What struck me was how clean everything was. What struck me next was how much space there was. Far from the horrors of the battery farmed hen, these birds roamed in great flocks through wooded hillocks & grassy paddocks, there were water troughs, feed stations & hay bales. Our farmer showed us round, demonstrated the skills of his border collie in rounding up several hundred ducks, described the routines of a day in the life of a foie gras farm, & explained the feeding process, known as gavage. 

Troubled by rumours of agricultural atrocities committed in the name of this delicacy in hideaway corners of foie-gras-ville like this one, yet torn by my secret relish for the delectable delight that is foie gras, I was determined to remain impartial & kept a firm grip on my skepticism. Despite this, as I looked on I could not help but observe that, all in all, these were happy looking birds.

 

In a small pen, two ducks were held for the demonstration. The gavage process is one in which the bird is force fed during the final two weeks before slaughter. A fattening up stage. The bird is fed corn through a funnel of sorts. Held snugly, a kind of wind up mechanism atop the funnel feeds corn in a steady stream so that is directly swallowed. The bird's neck is massaged to help the corn down & the process is repeated. As if to emphasise to us who stood watching on, the nature of this process from the bird's point of view, the second bird waited impatiently for its turn &, when its time came, was attended closely by the first. At the end of it all both birds seemed more than willing to hoover up what stray kernels remained scattered at the farmer's feet. Through skeptical spectacles, I saw nothing I could call cruel. It's a sensitive topic, & talking to people round these parts reveals that while the industrial practices of some parts of Eastern Europe & elsewhere have been proven to be less than savoury, artisan produced foie gras on the farms of south-west France is a very different matter. Certainly in the grand scheme of industrial farming practices generally employed throughout the world, this seemed pretty mild.

 

Leaving our well fed ducks, our tour ended with a butchery demonstration. A butcher's block was set up in the shop, the farmer's wife bringing in a pre-plucked duck for the demo. These are big ducks. Bigger than the ducks I'm used to anyway. Two breasts feed four people. Everything is big. Breaking it down, the knife runs down the breast bone, breast & drum sticks removed & set aside (see last week's post: confit de canard). The liver, a light brown colour, is exposed in the area of of the rib cage. The picture below shows our farmer holding the bird up, breast meat splayed, liver, or foie gras, revealed. The foie gras is carefully removed, the connective tissue connecting them removed & both sides are de-veined in preparation for cooking. Wanting to be thorough, we left with a shopping bag full of more samples to help further our research purposes.

Armed now with foie gras in various jars & cans, with smoked duck, duck confit, sausages, & liver in various stages of cookedness, from two different establishments, the next stop was the market place in Brive, held on the round road at the edge of the old town every Wednesday & Saturday. Countertops & display fridges are lined with all manner of food items, the terroir being what defines the difference between one producer & another. Not just the land, nor the soil, nor the climate, but all these factors combine to give character to the produce of one region, one district, one farm. In France, this is the measure of distinction, what the connoisseur seeks out, what underpins the pride each region lays claim to in the serious matter of good food, good wine, good produce.

Amidst the cages of live poultry, stacks of tomatoes, pumpkins & courgettes, great buckets of flowers, stalls selling breads & patisserie, tables covered in seafood, or baskets of cured meats, cabecou lined up behind glass, fromage de chevre, small rounds of goats cheese from any number of villages & tiny hamlets in the greater area, one sooner or later enters the foie gras quarter. What's available here is truly a sight to behold: confit de canard, cassoulet de canard, small pottles of whole fois gras poached in armagnac, terrines of duck & prune, duck drumstick ballotines, stuffed duck breast, dried meat minced meat or cured meat rolled with foie gras farce, duck flavoured breads biscuits crackers filled with a duck, apricots & prunes or, my favourite, figues au foie gras, & a whole lot more besides; dozens of farms & producers selling their product. I wandered through that place in a daze.

   

  

The cooking of foie gras is a delicate thing. High fat content means that it softens quickly when heated. Handling the liver in its raw state, it is best cut with a hot knife, running it under hot water before each slice. Cooking is done either gently in a bain-marie, as with pâté, or quickly in a smoking hot pan, searing the slices to crisp the outsides while leaving each sliced underdone at the centre.

recipe#1:  figues au foie gras.

ingredients: 

figs/foie gras/sauterne/butter

method: 

*gently squeeze open the base of the fig to create a cavity to stuff

*stuff the cavity with foie gras, so that it sits nicely

*line an oven proof pan/dish with baking paper, sit the figs on, knob of butter on top of each

*pour over a little sauterne, cover loosely with foil

*give the figs about 5 mins in a moderate to high oven

*remove, glaze with butter, pour syrup over figs to serve 

Two points to consider:

1) this is usually made with dried figs, or semi dried so that they are still workable, & this is how you buy them at market, but i prefer fresh.

2) the oven time is to warm the fruit thru, melt the butter to glaze, allow the sauterne to semi-poach & reduce to a syrupy consistency

recipe#2: foie gras entier (version1)

ingredients:

whole liver, both sides, deveined, roughly 350-500g

armagnac, roughly a cup or two, enough to cover

method:

*preheat oven to 180°

*lay out the foie gras, seasoning with s'n'p

*place the foie gras (entier=whole/entire) in a pottle/small casserole, pressing to fit -the idea is that it fits snugly inside

*pour over the armagnac (other recipes call for whiskey or brandy, sherry is nice, I've also used sauterne & am thinking i may use a local prune liqueur next time)

*cover the dish & cook in the oven for 15-20mins

*bring it out & sit on the bench to cool.

*using a piece of cardboard, or something similar to fit over the top inside of the dish, sit it on top & place a weight on top of that. i use a piece of wood & sit a jar of water on top at each end. The idea is to press down on the foie gras, pushing excess liquid (armagnac & fat) to the top, to set.

*leave in the fridge overnight.

*next day, remove weights & lid, melt the set film of armagnac/fat & pour over the top of the foie gras. Set once more in the fridge.

*to serve, place casserole in a warm water bath, to loosen the foie gras inside. Turn it out as one piece to present, slicing off servings. I like a glass of something on the side, here in France a local sauterne, or nice liqueur of some kind does nicely.

recipe#3: foie gras entier (version2)

ingredients:

whole liver, both sides, deveined, roughly 350-500g

a splash of armagnac

method:

*on your bench, spread out the foie gras & knead it gently with your fingers to spread it out further & form a rectangle. With such a high fat content, the liver is quite soft & maleable

*splash a little armagnac (or sherry etc) over the top, season with s'n'p

*let it sit for a few hours, to let the flavours absorb a little

*divide the rectangle into two or three equal sizes, place on glad wrap, & roll each into a long thin sausage shape, taking care not to roll the gladwrap inside the foie gras, 

*repeat with another layer of gladwrap & tie a knot in each end so water doesn't seep in

*poach these in barely simmering water for about 3-5mins, depending on thickness

*set cold in the fridge overnight

*to serve, slice 2 inch disks & unwrap. place on end on a plate & garnish with fresh raspberries & a little quince paste, perhaps some berry compote if raspberries are out of season, either way the marriage of berries & foie gras works very well.

recipe#4: escalope of foie gras on brioche with grapes 

(from 'A Table in the Tarn - living.eating & cooking in south-west France'' by Orlando Murrin)

ingredients:

1 fresh foie gras/a little icing sugar/a little flour

8 slices of brioche/2 eggs/60ml cream/2TGrand Marnier/2Tsugar/butter

a small bunch of grapes

s'n'p/chopped chives

method:

*using a hot knife(dip in hot h2o) slice across the foie gras into 8 equal slices

*dust the slices with the icing sugar & flour & set aside in fridge

*slice the grapes in half, skin & remove seeds if you wish, set aside

*make a dipping mix of egg/cream/GM/sugar

*in a hot pan, melt butter & fry golden brioche slices, after dipping in eggy mix

(keep warm in the oven while the rest of the dish takes shape)

*same pan, add a little more butter, toss the grapes at a sizzle, set aside

*turn heat up, wipe pan clean, & when the pan smokes flash sear the slices of foie gras for 30seconds to a minute on each side. The fat will quickly melt so you must work quickly

*assemble the dish: brioche first, foie gras next, grapes on top, chopped chives scattered over & a little sea salt to finish. Serve immediately.

Sally & I cooked this recipe here in La Brugue the other night, using Cointreau instead of Grand Marnier, & grapes from the vines that grow around the potager. Alan, a master with the bread maker, baked brioche. Two more dedicated food lovers I have rarely had the pleasure of meeting &, during my stay here in their beautiful home, it would be fair to say that a large percentage of our time has been spent in the pursuit of gastronomic indulgence. Our investigation into all things foie gras has been well & truly a joint effort

               

(great photos Nick!)

fri17aug2012: confit de canard (duck confit)

In the Dordogne & Lot regions of southwest France, there's a lot of duck to be found. The reason for this happy phenomenon is that this is mainly where foie gras happens. Truth be told, I did actually intend to focus on foie gras this week, but spread on french bread & eating it all up in the car on the way home from the foie gras factory isn't exactly a recipe. In any case, with duck legs & breasts also in my shopping basket, it seems only fitting to cook a confit.

Originally a peasant dish, confit is a method of preserving in which the meat is first salted, then slowly cooked in its own fat, finally it is cooled layered & covered in the fat where it should keep, stored sensibly, perfectly well for months. Of course there is seasoning, for example star anise is used in Asian duck recipes, orange in European recipes, but this changes according to preference or tradition.

The legs I have here are from Moulard ducks, since the 1960's the breed of choice for foie gras production when Muscovy & Pekin ducks were crossbred as an alternative in favour of the traditional Toulouse Goose. & oh what legs! - both breed & farming methods mean these ducks are large. The breasts, one will feed two people. The legs, well look at the pic, you can see for yourself their size. Additionally, the thighs on these drumsticks are wonderfully enriched with a nice layer of fat, but again this will vary according to breed. I paid just over €4 per twin pack for the ones I'm cooking here which, at one leg per portion, I'm pretty happy about. 

Ingredients: confit de canard

4 duck legs, usually trimmed, though I've left thighs attached on mine

a good handful of sea salt

a few sprigs of thyme

3 whole star anise

5 or 6 juniper berries

5 or 6 peppercorns

zest of one orange, though I've used lemon cos I have no oranges right now

a clove of garlic

goose or duck fat

Method: stage 1

*select a good dish to hold the duck legs overnight, preferably not plastic as it may taint the flavour. I've used the bottom of a tagine dish, which is flat & wont take up too much room in the fridge

*peel & crush slightly the garlic, whacking it with the side of my knife is what i do, & rub the dish all over with the garlic

*taking a handful of salt, rub the legs, just take them in hand & get in there, be thorough, don't be shy

*lay the salted legs in your dish, placing herb/zest/berries/pepper between layers

*cover with clingfilm & sit in the fridge for 24/36 hours

Method: stage 2

*set the oven to 120º Celsius

*brush/wash the salt off the duck legs

*in a single layer, place flat in an oven proof dish

*cover with warmed duck/goose fat, adding the herb/herb/zest/berries/pepper 
(if you just don't have enough, turn legs over half way through cooking)

*cover the pan with foil

*cook in the oven for 3 hours.

*remove from the oven & let the whole dish cool

* CAREFULLY place each leg in a clean dish, strain the liquid fat over them, making sure each leg is fully covered.

 

Method: stage 3

*whenever removing legs from their storage, use clean thongs, NOT your hands, as bateria will be introduced, shortening the life of the preserved meat

*also, sit the dish on the kitchen bench a while to soften the fat before removing the legs.
*to serve the confit, some crisp the skin up in a hot pan, I prefer simply to place the leg on an oven tray, there is ample fat coating, warming for 5 minutes of so & resting in a gentle heat until required

As a dish in itself, confit of duck is wonderful eaten on its own, hot or cold. The meat is so tender & it's flavoursome. With a potato of some description for a hot main, maybe a dollop of mash, maybe fondant potatoes made with duck stock. In this region, Pommes à la Sarladaise is often on the menu, a kind of semolina smashed potato cooked in duck fat. With cabbage is another classical combination, as with garbure. At Ten Twenty Four in Hawkes Bay, we took the confit meat & rolled it in a spring roll, serving it with pickled red cabbage & apple, & it was sensational.

However you have it, duck confit is a really good dish to get right, it's worth the effort. I'd go so far as to say that if a list were to be written of the top 10 things to always have in the cooler, duck confit would be on my list. 

quack

fri10aug2012: menu du jour

  

I'm traveling about in France for a time, enjoying the warm summer weather & seeing the sights. So far I've seen: 
*the oyster sheds on the Cancale coast where we ate oysters with lemon & threw the shells over the breakwater, 
*a drive-thru Boulangerie in Dinan which stayed open all day, 
*a village fête in Yvignac-la-Tour where a satanic rock band played in the churchyard & we ate sausages cooked over an open fire & wrapped them in galettes with mustard & tomato sauce, 
*an abbattoir near Caulnes where we bought rillette & boudin noir, 
*a dance party in the woods near Tisonnais where there was plenty to sniff swallow & smoke but not a bite to eat, 
*a lovely restaurant in Chauvigny where madam scolded me when i asked for my boeuf medium-rare (not one of the three ways the chef could cook my boeuf), 
*acres & acres of grape vines in the Loire Valley, 
*a Gelateria by the canal in Sète, 
*an oyster farm somewhere off the Sth coast, on the way to a delightful seafood restaurant in Bouzigues which we got to by crossing the harbour in a speed boat, stopping to swim along the way,
*more delightful restaurants in Montpellier, where I became aware of how close we were to Spain by the frequency of Tapas menus everywhere, 
*a salon du thé, crêperie & tarterie in Castres, family run, where Madam sat inside tut-tutting while her two heart breakingly cute daughters took care of everything, one inside cooking, the other waiting our table, recommending me dishes & sneaking small pastries out to us while mama wasn't watching, 
*a foie gras producer in the Dordogne, the first of several hopefully,
*a fish market in Souillac, 
*a farmer's market in Fajoles where we drank sangria made by the town mayor & ate duck confit with salad & potatoes from the bbq on long tables packed with locals one Sunday who told stories I barely understood but which got steadily funnier the more we drank. 
From Britanny on the English Channel to Montpellier on the Meditteranean & back to La Brugue in the centre, along the way I've become rather taken by the French way of eating a meal. The little ceremony to the eating of ones lunch or dinner, the order of things, is what I've decided to write about this week.

 

I really like the French way of eating. Not so different, I suppose, from our own, excepting that rather than everything put on a plate & called dinner, everything is put on a series of plates & these come out one after the other, & that's dinner. But things work differently here. At noon shops close, to reopen at 3, perhaps 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Lunch is a two hour affair; the heat of the day is no time to work. One can enjoy ones bread, salad, meat, & cheese, uncrowded & unhurried. & then, relaxed & sipping coffee, one is ready for dessert.

I've been traveling through France via the small bistros & brasseries that line the streets in every town & village en route, stopping to inspect menu du jour options chalked up on blackboards out front. These places offer no grand culinary experience, but rather a good square meal for the workers to enjoy, affordable, local dishes, which reflect region & season, served with a carafe of table wine. 

The cuisine maison varies from restaurant to restaurant, region to region, but generally speaking le menu du jour consists often two or three entrée options to choose from, a single main plate, a cheese board which moves between tables, & a dessert. For €12-15 you might expect a menu something along these lines:

Entrée

a choice of charcuterie

a light seafood dish

a salad

Plat du Jour

a cut of veal, beef or pork, perhaps skewered, usually grilled, with a veg side

a local speciality, perhaps a pie or a casseroles of some kind

Fromage

a selection of local cheeses

Dessert

the house speciality, almost always a tart, quite often tarte tatin 

ice creams

something chocolate

         

So menu ideas rather than recipes this week. Stepping back from the idea of a single dish, allowing the ingredient opportunity to shine on its own. The menu boards pictured above offer a selection of menu ideas fitting for any dinner party, indeed I include them here for that reason. Here in La Brugue, a stroll down to the potager, the kitchen garden, rewards with an abundance of ripe tomatoes hanging on the vine, aubergines too, there's sliverbeet, lettuces & sweetcorn, brambles climb the fence covered with tayberries & raspberries, in the orchard beyond, plum trees, peach, quince & walnut. 

The natural rhythm of our meals here is a reflection of this fashion of dining, the menu du jour format is nothing special, it's regular dining & there's time to relax & enjoy the food & the company, as well it reflects the region & the season. Last night for dinner, a case in point:

Entrée

a salad of tomatoes off the vine, basil & olive oil

Plat du Jour

duck breast with yellow plum sauce

Fromage

a few small rounds of rocamadour & quince paste 

Dessert

fresh berries, cream & honey

The summer evenings are warm here & we ate outside, jugs of iced water on the table & 

a few bottles of local rosé, a setting sun over the hazel nut grove at the bottom of the garden.

fri03aug2012: mussels>moules marinières

Picture this: 32° & clear blue skies, out the back door beyond the infinity pool & over the hedge, stretches 12km of beach, raked daily, & out front the speedboat is parked in the marina just over the road, incase we need to run into town for more bottles of rosé. The scene for my next dish.

I'm in the south of France visiting friends in Sète. Sète is situated on an isthmus which juts out off the Mediterranean coastline heading east on route to Montpellier Marseilles & Monaco. Every summer the crowds flock to this coastline, for me in this place though it's all about the seafood. Walking past restaurants here, every second table seems adorned by platters of fruits de mer, moules & frites on every menu, oysters by the dozen, calamari...

Despite having spent a little time coasting the oyster beds around France now I feel still that the time to write oyster has not yet arrived, more oysters need to be sacrificed. I turn then to the mussel. The dish, moules marinières, is a classic. 

Ingredients: mussels

white wine -about a glass

onion/garlic -one of each

celery/leek/fennel bulb -a stalk of each
red or yellow capsicum -one will do

parlsey/thyme/peppercorns -plenty of each

mussels -about a kg

Method:

* scrub clean the mussel shells & yank out the beard (hairy bit)

* dice&slice the veg,add thyme, drop in a big pot with a knob of butter

* put all the clean mussels in the pot 

* pour the wine in, lid on, hot element

* wait til the liquid boils then allow 2-4 minutes to cook the mussels, shake the pot a few times to move mussels about. They will steam open when ready
(throw away the mussels which dont open) 
*add in the chopped parsley

* serve in bowls, with the broth, crusty white bread on the side

 [mah-reen-YEHR] 1. À la marinière is a French phrase meaning "mariner's style." It refers to the preparation of shellfish with white wine and herbs. It can also refer to a fish dish garnished with mussels. 2. Marinière sauce is a mussel stock-based bercy sauce enriched with butter or egg yolks.

                                  (http://www.answers.com/topic/marini-re-1#ixzz22OsIJvR1)

We had a lovely evening the night this dish was made. In the kitchen, everyone got busy which, in a house full of chefs, is always a sign of good things to come.  The evenings are cool here & we (ed: actually, not we but Bree who laid the table!) laid the table outside. Centre table sat the mussels, which we ate with our fingers - it's the way, really. Empty shells soon form a small mountain on the plate, don't worry - it's normal!
Bree made a caprese salad (one of my favouritefavouritefavourites) with avocado, I made my signature roast beetroot, walnut, goat's cheese, rocket & red current salad, Beth was making fish cakes for the guests in the villa next door so we bought a little more salmon, some prawns & a fillet of cod & added that to the mix with some orange kumara mash & loads of fresh herb, & made extra fish cakes for oursleves. Nick made the moules marinière, adding one more dish to his repertoire.

Conversation round the table involved a lot of flexing of mussels, as it were, comparing recipes & responding with the appropriate "yea that sounds good, but you should try..." type responses (every chef secretly knows their own version is best). Mussels are a favourite among chefs if for no other reason than that they are so easy to cook & taste so amazing. My mother used to dish them out to feed the masses when I was a kid, & everywhere I go, it's a dish I plate up at some point. Bree told me about a version she was shown & which has become a favourite of hers:

Moules a l'Oriental (Algerian)

2kg moules

1cup filtered mussel stock/water

1cup dry white wine

1cup white wine vinegar

1cup sunflower oil

1Tablespoon cumin

4cloves garlic

1tube tomato concentrate

pepper

Method:

*in a pot, in hot oil, cook out the cumin powder, garlic, tomato paste

*add the mussels, cleaned & washed, mix all about

*slowly pour in the liquids, over the mussels & put a lid on the pot

*shake the pot a few times, mussels will cook in 2-4 minutes

*to serve, ladle into bowls, with crusty bread & butter

Another version I like involves ginger, kaffir & lemongrass, a thai style stock with coconut cream & fresh coriander....which leads me to my final note: the liquid left in the pot is worth keeping. Strain this stock through a sieve & use it next time you make mussels. If space allows, freeze this stock in the ice-maker, keeping zip lock bags full of stock cubes, labelled & dated, for convenience next time around...

 

(While the northern hemisphere European mussels are nice'n'sweet'n'all, these New Zealand green lipped mussels are the beauties I miss cooking & gobbling up - big, fat, juicy & rich, they definitely take gold over their European cousins)