We'll get the winning score,
Oh hear our mighty roar.
Roar!
Rosbifs
There is the very specific male fantasy of being "called-up". "Yes Batman, Robin's sick, right". The Japanese refer to it as:
small-boy-chosen-by-scientists-to-defend-nation- kon . When I was a complete bastard schoolboy we'd write notices up on the message board for a Claremont Football Club obsessed target of bile that, "Graham Moss called, you're needed for the match this weekend" or just "Mossy's on the phone". I'd like to apologise for this. Anyway, where was I.. oh yes a French friend asked me to cook the main course for Bastille Day.
She lent me two books for inspiration Culinaria France and the
Roux Brothers Good Tastin' Country Kitchen . The cassoulet I made is based mainly on the former but cross-referenced with the latter. It's quite a process and I often can only get my head around things pictorially so here's the flow chart that I scribbled up and gave to my friend. Have a look for the process, recipe, and a glimpse into what goes on in my head.
The cooking is quite simple, if lengthy – two days. The real task in making this classic French peasant dish is getting everything. The meat was no problem, I called Mondo Di Carne in Inglewood and they admirably got everything for me. The real problem was the Confits de Canard (preserved duck/goose legs). I tried Kitchen Essentials and got the very men's boutiquish – "they are $120 a kg and we don't have them". With that and the $50 a kilo haricot beans, I decided a foodie values utility over extravagance and looked elsewhere. I tracked back to the Pressure Cooker Centre to ask the chatty French lady there if she knew. She pointed me to Herdies Fresh where I settled for a jar of duck fat . This jar has one of the most impressive Nutritional Guides I've ever seen.
Per 100gm serving
Kilojoules – 3724.38
Fat – 99.8gm
Sodium
Calcium
Cooking was easy, only danger was of passing out from pork and garlic fumes as I drove to the host's house.
Our host's Roquefort Soufflé served with lettuce with New Zealand dressing was exceptional, as was the chocolate mousse.
As for the cassoulet. It plays a mean trompe l'oiel*. It looks like sausage and bean casserole but tastes otherworldly. Try it. The humble becomes the exalted – revolutionary in fact.
Vive La France!
Footnote History buffs, and I do mean buff, can research further at Angelina Jolie and the French Revolution where "the tedious soup-plate symmetry of artificial enhancement" meets "St Just invoked the "male energie" of the republic".
* eggcorn?
