Every year, as the leaves desert the trees with the brisk approach of winter, my mind wanders back to the first time I tasted cassoulet. A rich, slow-cooked country casserole, cassoulet originated in the south of France. It’s name is derived from the word cassole, a deep round earthenware dish with slanted sides, in which it was traditionally prepared.
When I was twelve, my father took a sabbatical and moved us, for a year, to Great Milton, a small village in Oxfordshire England. I discovered many wonderful new things there: thatched roofs, shandy, that soccer is really football and American football is really rugby with helmets, pads and too many rules. I also discovered cassoulet.
In the middle of the chilly damp winter, our neighbours Richard and Elisabeth Balkwill invited us to share a meal that Richard had been preparing for two days. He was very proud, justifiably, of his recipe, which he had pried from the recipe book of an unwilling elderly gite owner his family had stayed with in Lapeze, a small town in the Dordogne region in the south of France.
To prepare cassoulet is simple, but requires patience. Here is what you need: about a pound of white navy beans, a pound of pork loin, a quarter pound of bacon, a dry European sausage (saucisson sec), six cloves of garlic, three large onions, the same amount of tomatoes, around a litre of chicken stock (decent store bought varieties are available, but homemade is much superior), a robust red wine (I suggest an Argentinian Malbec for quality and value) and finally bread crumbs.
The ingredients for the cassoulet Lapeze are easy to find at any local grocer, with the exception of the saucisson sec, or what Richard called a “dusty old French sausage”. For that you will need to find a meat shop dealing in European charcuterie, or perhaps an Italian specialty foods shop. An Italian calabrese with peppercorns will do the trick, as will any dried spicy sausage. You should consider getting your bacon there as well, as a properly smoked chunk of pork belly will make all the difference in your cassoulet, as compared with the water pumped, sulfite-rich varieties available at most grocery stores. Get it unsliced.
The morning of the day before you wish to serve your cassoulet, soak the beans for roughly eight hours in water. Go to work, go to a matinee, do what you do in the day. When you get home, in a large pot, cover the beans with water and simmer them gently, being sure to add a couple cubes of bacon. Now it’s prep time. Mince the garlic (saving a clove for later) and slice the onions and tomatoes roughly, no need for any fancy knife skills here. Cut the pork loin into one inch cubes and the sausage into quarter-inch thick slices. Next, dice the rest of the bacon, setting aside two slices to grease the pan for the pork loin.
Cook the reserved bacon slices to release the fat and toss in the pork chunks, scattering some of the garlic overtop and cook them until slightly browned. Set them aside, leaving as much fat as possible still in the pan. Next, add the bacon and sliced onions, cooking them until the onions soften. Now add the remaining garlic and tomatoes to the pan and cook for five minutes. Add the wine and stock next and simmer for about twenty or so minutes. Your beans should be done right about now and will require draining.
Now is the time to get out your large crockery casserole (or closest facsimile of) and rub the inside with the remaining clove of garlic. Next, layer your ingredients in this order: browned pork, sausage, the “bacon stock” and finally the beans. The dish will cook in a 200 degree oven for twelve to fourteen hours, covered. It will reveal a layer of fat on top, to which you will add the bread crumbs and finish at 350 degrees until the top is brown and crispy. Let it set for ten minutes, then it’s time to eat! Cassoulet is very rich, so it pairs well with something light like a simple green salad.
Upon returning to Canada, Richard’s recipe in hand, my mother would try to re-create cassoulet Lapeze at least once every winter, a tradition I have upheld since leaving home. While our attempts are always delicious, Richard’s cassoulet has remained the finest I have ever tasted. Perhaps it was his Aga oven, an oil burning range they used, not only to cook, but to heat their home. The Aga includes a series of ovens and burners ranging in temperature. His cassoulet cooked slowly and gently overnight and through the next day in the oven with the lowest heat. Perhaps it is simply context, the newness of it touching my taste buds for the first time, it etched in my memory a potentially unsurmountable experience I will always pursue.
