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September 10, 2006

cassoulet, o cassoulet

Cassoulet is one of those fabulous preserved meats and dried beans recipes that exist all over Europe and the new world. This is a favourite of mine, matched only by Cocido Madrileño. The various styles of cassoulet are all fabulous. Toulouse's normally has a crust of breadcrumbs, the cassoulet of Castelnaudary never does, and that of Carcassone also has mutton or lamb. This way of cooking is very rewarding - very little effort for tremendous results. The alchemy of the beans and the other ingredients starts at the beginning - that wonderful clink of the dried beans hitting the bottom of a clean bowl and the cascading cold water over them, all white and pure. A little moment of delicious beginnings, of hope, of imagining everyone sitting at the table, laughing, drinking and eating.

Here is my recipe for the Toulouse-style cassoulet, which I have taken from Elisabeth David and adapted slightly. Serves 4-6.

  • White beans (dried: use haricot, but other shite beans work too), about 1lb.

  • herbs for bouquet garni (usually bay, parsley, sage and thyme, but rosemary works well also)

  • salt pork or unsmoked gammon (about 2lb)

  • 4 to 6 duck legs as confit (or fresh duck legs: see below)

  • (if making your own duck confit, you will also need about 2 pints of duck fat)

  • 4-6 raw Toulouse sausages, or high-grade raw sausage (must be pork)

  • 1 large onion

  • 2-3 cloves of garlic

  • 2-3 fresh ripe tomatoes

  • fresh breadcrumbs

  • water

Take the white beans and soak overnight in unsalted cold water.
Drain the beans the next morning and simmer gently in unsalted water with a bouquet garni (a tied-up bundle) of parsley, bay leaf, sage and thyme, for about an hour or until they begin to soften (they do not need to be completely cooked).

If you do not have duck confit (i.e. you only have fresh duck legs):

Meanwhile, as the beans are cooking, if you do no have confit of duck, make your own as follows:

  • generously salt the duck legs and leave to stand in a cool place for about 2 hours

  • brush off some of the salt and place in an oven-proof dish

  • cover completely with duck or goose fat

  • place in oven, at about 100 centigrade or 250 Fahrenheit for two hours

  • allow to cool

If you do have confit, then proceed to next step below:

About 5 hours before your guests arrive, rub the inside of a wide and deep oven-proof dish (terracotta is best) with a cut clove of garlic.
Then take about half of the part-cooked beans (drained) and place in the bottom;
Add the onion in slices, the tomatoes in pieces (and all their juice) and the peeled cloves of remaining garlic;
Now arrange the salt pork (cut into big chunks) and confit on top, scraping off as much fat from the confit as possible.
Top with the remaining beans.
Now top up with water so that everything is covered (you can keep topping it up during cooking if necessary)
You can use a dry white wine if you wish, but I think water is best.
Cook for about 4 hours on a lowish heat (about 140 centigrade) uncovered. press the crust the forms down every so often.
One hour before serving, add the uncooked sausages and stir into the pot.
Now add the breadcrumbs (sufficient to cover everything).
Cook on a slightly higher heat for another hour.
Serve on its own or with cooked green beans as an accompaniment (in France I gather it comes on its own).

What is so interesting about this dish is its effect on the eater. The experience of eating it is wonderful, but it does sit heavily: that fat (which is actually good for you - in the SW of France where this comes from, heart disease is at its lowest, and they use duck or goose fat in everything) weighs heavy indeed, and the beans sit like a brick in the stomach. You will feel laid low for several days - slow, sluggish, over-burdened with food. But you will also feel contented, pleasantly dulled to the hubbub of the outside.

Plan it like this - eat it at the beginning of a long week when you do not have to go into work. It will de-stress you, make you take things slower, require you to sleep more and bring you out to the other side full of the bliss of real rest.

There is an extraordinary humanity in this food, an analogue to the care taken in French society to look after its workers, its families; one of the best health systems in the world, undoubtedly the best educational system in the world and food that, were it available as a weapon, would sweep Bush and all his kind aside in a slow and warm wave of  fat....

Cassoulet on the National Health - that is my deepest hope.

Cassoulet as a weapon of mass destruction? Oui oui, si vous plait.

August 18, 2006

food here in this place

well they've gone off to the cinema and I missed them....

my fault. I said I'd be there at 8.15 and I got to talking with B and C and left too late. started walking that way but thought better of it. I wonder what they're experiencing.

I'm thinking again about food (always do when friends are in my mind) . I am tired so don't want to cook, but take-away here is so awful, so dull and bad that I can't face it. How did English food get so bad (and it is much better than it used to be)?

There are the usual stories, of course:

  1. Oliver Cromwell (God damn him, to quote the Pogues) banned the use of spices in English cooking and this has had a lasting impact on the blandness and poor quality of English food
  2. Rationing of food stuffs during the two world wars fundamentally destroyed the delicate sustainability of he English food tradition
  3. England's rapid and fulsome commitment to industrialisation intervened in the agricultural systems that provided excellent produce to local markets

In actual fact I don't think any of this really gets it quite right. Indeed, together they add up to to a story not unlike that of many North European countries and yet their foods (on the whole) are much better than ours (although I can think of some places where food almost as bad as ours is regularly served up).

No, England has bad food because the English like it that way. We have no sense of how to make food work, live on endless diets of half-baked colonial re-inventions of foods from far away, and put up with hormone-pumped meats from brutalised animals.

A country's food, I think, is a symptom of its cultural and mental health. By this reckoning, the English are a sickly, selfish and stupid people with no imagination.

welcome to woop woop

April 19, 2006

food and love and food and love and food and love and food and love and ...

My lovely friend Norse Goddess (yet to harvest the heroes of the blogoshpere) had a cat named after a British condiment who every morning, as she put it, demanded both food and love in equal quantities and at regular intervals (usually every 10 minutes for at least 2 hours). RIP sweet feline pickle.

OK - this relationship between food and love. What of its politics? How are pleasure (sexual, culinary, physical, cultural) related to the putatively rational discourse of citizenship? How can food or sex or attraction to anything, anyone, anyfood be political?

Lets begin with the easy stuff: food begins where friends leave off (no... good food does not rely on being lonely... pay attention now...). It heals, sutures, makes whole what friends fracture. Friends make it necessary and I love them for it.

Yes, I am large of food loving, large-ish of flesh and sort of big of appetite. And I love to cook for friends and I love to eat. These pleasures on the political left have had hard time. At least Marx was smart enough to raise growing vegetables ( I think he referred specifically to potatoes growing in a field) above the level playing cricket (sorry RiMi).

And yet the left persists in its disdain for pleasures such as these - to enjoy boeuf bourgignon (that most camp of 1970s British imaginations of French cuisine and yet one of its most accurate) is somehow gratuitous, inauthentic, disingenuous, a simpering pretention. And yet to cook beef in red wine for a long time, with bayleaf, small onions, mushrooms and orange peel makes great sense (it must of course be good beef from an animal that has loved and breathed a good life).

It's not that lefties (like me) dislike good food, it's just that they (I, we) find it difficult to embrace foods that are (however cheap - this at least is not a form of vulgar materialism) marked by anything other than an honest proletarian class origin.

But the real sense of this food (regardless of whether it was eaten by the tolpuddle martyrs) is what makes it a global treasure - food that works, food that pleases, food that sketches out the potentiality of an Arcadian abundance at the table is a pleasure of hoping, a pleasure of daring to desire a future of open giving. Eat yourselves better - recipes for utopia to follow.

Delia and Rosa Luxembourg - sisters of different soviets!