Gastronomie domine
REAL FOOD DINNER – South West Cuisine de Terroir by Michel Dussau
“Everybody’s got a hungry heart”.
Bruce Springsteen
Cometh the hour, cometh the chef and his massed battalions of ducks. Our Real-Plete Food-and-Wine-Dinner was a cartoon of Hogarthian excess juggling hilarious generosity with the swaggering exposition of the artisan’s art.
If cooking be the food of love, feast on all that jazz, so that when my appetite withers or dies or just plain explodes I may have a spare one for the fine commission of eating, for, in the language of Runyon, I do love to commit eating. This repast was truly the food of love and the love of food, a gargantuan, bear-like love smothered in goose-fat.
The simplicity of the meal was that it adopted a few ingredients and riffed royally on them. Diverse duck and pork dishes were variations upon a theme of innards and outtards – the ingredients were respected and re-respected - nothing was wasted, the homespun cuisine de terroir that Michel is renowned for in his restaurant in Moissac, La Table d’Armandie.
A tureen is placed on the table with a garbure that has been simmering for around eight hours. It is a broth-light amalgam of duck and pork with cabbage, beans, carrots and turnip, bay, chervil and parsley: surely Le vrai Garbure Béarnaise though no doubt our heroic chef would be cuffed as a presumptuous whippersnapper by legions of granite-faced grandmères who would implicitly know that their family recipe steeped in the sweat of peasant tradition was the holiest of the holy, and this version was but a vision modern. Beautiful, subtle, almost sacramental, nevertheless, you wouldn’t say nuts to this soup.
And so it (the cascade of food) began. Pure autogavage - kerblam! – slabs of foie gras like marble liver served with stuffed prunes (with fat and butter!), a pièce that brooked no resistance. After that artery-damming interlude, a deliciously refreshing Marinade de Légumes, Gambas et Magret Fumé containing some baby broad beans and new season’s peas interspersed with prawns and the obligatory shredded smoked duck dressed with lemon juice, the veriest, humblest squawk of surf ‘n’ turf (if duck can be considered a turfivore!)
Next was a big sweet Piquillo pepper gravid with creamy morue, an innocent-looking but very filling salt-fish (eel and potato) grenade and a classic Basque favourite. As Dame Vera sang: Eel meat again? Small observation: the words “farci” and L’estofi” in several dishes provided a continuous ironic menu commentary on our ordeal by feast.
Whereupon, on a silver platter, appeared a bigger gun, a Herculean sausage roll, a crusty pastry log encasing some dense and highly seasoned pork meat. Called Tourte Campagnarde en feuillletée it sounded like a legal charge. “You have been accused of Tourte Campagnarde en feuillletée – how do you plead? I was tempted to ask at this stage if several similar gluttonous gastronomic offences could be taken into account. One had to admit that this meat was just and I gloomily accepted seconds. The solitary mizuna leaf was a thoughtful aid to digestion.
Thus endeth the starters (?) and the first lock on our alimentary canals was closed. The kitchen decided to move up a gear and unleashed a heavy duty artillery of woofers and tweeters. First out of the traps and into our traps was Camagnon de Porc Braiséaux Epices, a slow-cooked lump, rump, chump of pork plumped on a bed of spiced lentils. The evening becomes hazy at this point as the heavy infusion of wine was beginning to take its toll but I dimly recall slithery Tripoux a l’Aveyronnaise , a speciality of Rouergue and Aubrac, which made no concession to more delicate sensibilities, some nubbly ducks’ hearts and the wonderfully named Lou Magret aux Pruneaux – tender and beautifully pink breast thereof – Mr Lou Duck take a bow.
A meal such as this can be a like a spiritual vortex if you don’t approach it in the right frame of mind. You can become so full that you are empty. The “gut-guilt” that compels us to leave large quantities of food behind (or bolt it without truly savouring) runs counter to the notion of lovingly cooked Slow Food. One should make time to take time, as the French aptly put it. A beautiful banquet prepared by Michel Dussau is not just fuel or fodder, it involves amazing transformations; it is about being at the end of the food chain, whilst appreciating the rest of the links within it. This food originates in and embodies the spirit of the south west. You can taste the bold terroir. Prepared slowly, with massive care and attention, no short cuts are taken, the flavours are maximised and the truth of ingredients is respected. I took a deep breath for the Toulouse cassoulet, a dish, which when done properly, quite simply, makes me misty with pleasure. It’s pure comfort food, devoured with ritualistic gusto, the crust, the gluey beans, the nuggets of pork or bacon, the richness of the confit and finally the reward of the sausage. I see cassoulet as one of the supreme symbols of French peasant gastronomy – all the various ingredients come together in one pot and meld just as people do over a dinner table as the wine and conversation inexorably flows.
I can only repeat what I have written elsewhere: “Lamb, veal, pork and game, ducks and geese, chicken and guinea fowl, truffles, cepes and mushrooms, chestnuts and cheeses, prunes and plums endless variants, here a Catalan influence, there a Languedocian note, the terroirs of Landes, the Dordogne and Quercy all yielding their diverse signatures. Writing in generalities can’t do justice to the regional vitality, the sheer diversity of the cuisine of the area that we call South West France. Moreover, every recipe is a kind of history in itself and every family has its story to tell about the way it should be cooked. It would be a mistake nevertheless to assert that things stand still. As recipes are handed on, subtle refinements are made, sturdiness may be replaced by lightness, but the cuisine de terroir always remains close to the earth – each dish invariably constructed around the strength of local ingredients. In the South West food and cooking is that most tangible and sensuous necessity of people’s lives, writes Paula Wolfert. We believe that to appreciate fully the wines of the South West you must also experience the food and that the pleasure you take in the one nurtures a desire for the other.”
Thank you Michel Dussau, thank you wine growers who were at the dinner and provided the wines, thank you guests for being there to enjoy the food.
To see the full menu