LA FOOD--PART 2

I would never have heard of Cassoulet had it not been for the "Wall Street Journal" Weekend Edition's propensity each fall to devote one page to the praises of cassoulet, featuring a large and carefully staged photo of this rather complex and complicated dish.  The recipe generally takes up the lion's share of the page.  It involves several  trips to the grocery store for duck parts and various cuts of pork, plus other less common ingredients.  A successful cassoulet will also involve at least two days of preparation because one must prep, slice and dice; sauté and chill; sauté again, soak beans, boil; chill again...it goes on forever.  It is not a dish for the weak-hearted in either the preparation or the eating--due to the large amount of duck fat, duck skin and pork skin required for a successful product.

I have been rather taken with cassoulet for the last two years simply because it looks absolutely delicious in its heavy, specially shaped cassole.  I've never made cassoulet, or even thought about making cassoulet.  It is far, far above my meager kitchen credentials.

So, as I was reading Rick Steves' guide to the Languedoc area of France, I noted that cassoulet is the regional dish of that area--the very place we would be visiting.  As luck would have it, cassoulet was on the menu of a charming, tiny restaurant located in the historic fortified city of Carcasonne on the day of our visit.  It was the only cold, wet and windy day of our trip but, in all honesty, that added the perfect atmosphere to the medieval castle and city we were exploring.  In addition, what perfect weather for a steaming bowl of cassoulet! 

 

What can I say?  We were tucked on the second floor of a picturesque restaurant, seated at a tiny table that looked over the gray stone castle and old city.  We ordered wine and slowly began to remove our waterproof ponchos and jackets as the luscious red began to do its work.  Our waitress (the one who was not happy at having to stay late to serve us and the six people who followed on our heels--restaurants close at 2:00 p.m.) carried our heavy, hot bowls up the steep, narrow stairs to our table.  She managed some semblance of a smile, then hurried back downstairs.  We sipped our wine, and gingerly ate our steaming cassoulet.  We finished with a luscious crème brulee and rich chocolat.  Revived, we visited a few shops before our drive back to Amelie.

 

All was well until shortly after bedtime.  The extreme indigestion came on slowly, but quickly gathered speed, strength and intensity.  The extreme indigestion continued for most of the night--for all four of us.  Fortunately, Gaynor's vacation home has two toilettes--magnificent foresight on her part. 

 

We were very quiet and subdued the next day.  We ate dainty bits of bread but not much else.  We spoke in quiet tones and occasionally crept to the patio for the warmth of the southern French sun.  Some blamed the cassoulet while others weren't sure.  In all honesty, we don't know, but the cassoulet was a common denominator.  We were chastened and chagrined and five pounds lighter--each.  And that is all I will say about that.

 

So, dear friends.  Yes, the food was very good.  Portions were generous.  Meats we don't generally eat in the United States are common in France.  Vegetables are much more important here.  Fruits taste completely different than in the US--much better.  I like the food and love the lifestyle that surrounds it.  We could learn a lot from the French.

 

 

Amen!