• Foie Gras & Lotte cassolettes- oven baked Foie gras & monkfish on a bed of julienned aillets & carrots
• Foie Gras en Chemise Verte- spinach wrapped poached foie gras
• Confit de Canard
• Rillettes de Canard
• Paté de Foie Gras
• Terrine de foie gras
• Confit de Oie- goose
• Cassoulet Camontw/ saucisse de Toulouse,
• Grattons or cracklins- Gascon popcorn Piment d’Espelette
• Magrets seché fumé
• Magret Chemineé
• Huitres Roti (for a little duck relief)

I was walking down the street on my way to a Fat Market when I overheard two tourists talking. I knew they we’re tourists because one, pushing a wheelbarrow full of duck carcasses and the other with a gang of delicious children in tow, were speaking a foreign tongue. I heard unfamiliar words like prosciutto- ah, Italians! And then charcuterie- non, les françaises. And then- lalapalooza! Americaines!!! Oh my, Madame la Brouette et la NomnomMaman were not showing off speaking foreign words. They were making food. Meat food to be exact. Charcuterie, precisement! Eh Voila!

And so I followed them down this meat garden path to join a hundred other food bloggers for a charcuterie jamboree called Charcutepalooza. I call it “your year of putting your mind and money where your mouth is- on the Meat”. It was happenstance that I had just finished a two-week Artisan Butchery & Charcuterie program here at Camont with Chef Sarah Wong from Seattle’s Culinary Academy- (pictured below with a bowl o’ magrets). We had wrapped up two weeks of pig butchery and pork charcuterie with a trip to the one of the Gers fabulous Marche au Gras, or Fat Markets. the results of buying 5 fat ducks, foie gras to cracklins was a big bowl of magrets de canard or meaty duck breasts. Most of these whopping big steack de canard became confit, but I reserved two to salt, smoked and cure for…bacon. Duck Bacon.

I know the challenge says duck prosciutto, but the gascon purist that I am (meaning as it pleases me!) prefers to use the French term for a French product- hence Magret Seché- dried duck breast. And like the ventreche we salt and cure for French bacon or lardons, I knew that at least some of this deep red, melting fat meat would be destined for breakfast. And breakfast is nothing if about the Bacon.

My Duck Bacon

1. I lightly salted the meat side of the breasts, just about a tablespoon of coarse sel gris, or grey sea salt.
2. I let the salt rest on the duck overnight- 12 hours. Fat side down to cradle and retain the briny meat juices.
3. Next morning with a paper towel, I wiped off  any excess salt.
4. NOW, I heavily coated the magret with freshly ground black pepper. Fresh as in ground with my old hand cranked coffee mill.
5. Then passing a loop of string through the end of the meat, I hung the breasts, un-wrapped (the pepper will keep anything you are afraid of away!) first in a corner of my 8-foot wide fireplace for a night of smoking and then from a couple of wooden rods suspended in my airy stone pantry room. In the winter there is no risk of flies or other bugs and the fluctuating temps from day to night help cure the meat slowly.
6. A week later, maybe 10 days as we were cooking so much other food, I checked the magrets sechés. They were nicely firm, the fat was supple and the fine coat of pepper had cured into a pungent crust.
7. I sliced one immediately lengthwise, fried a couple deep golden eggs fresh from the hens, and shared a Gascon breakfast with my sister and friends.

The duck bacon’s fat melted as sweetly as pork; the meat sliced neither thick nor thin, became crispy and sweet and salty; the pepper raised the flavor level to serious enough for a Musketeer. The fat was already melting at room temperature as I took these picture. I could see it glisten and liquidfy before my eyes. The eggs were fired sunny side up, then slices of a baguette we’re toasted in the same pan to mop up any lost fat. The half fat, half lean Duck Bacon is now my favorite choice for Gascon Sunday Brunch when friends come to visit… here at Camont.

Figs. Pigs. What’s the diff? A figgy newton-like cookie is always good with Earl Grey.

This week, I gathered the first harvest from the GIANT fig tree at Camont and I knew just where I was going. No recipe needed to make a batch of dark, delicious figgy/piggy jam. But I will tell you what I did with what was at hand. Next post, I’ll make a homemade a cookie dough with lard and butter (like my Grandmother’s biscotti) and cook the ‘Pig Newton Rolls’ for Smilin’ Miles- my new beau.

Kate’s French Figgy Jam- notes on a cooking riff.

The most important ingredient is my pot. For years, I used a too-deep 20-liter stainless steel stock pot or a too-wide braising pan with lid that was big enough to hold 2 chickens. One was not wide enough for the volume of fruit, the other too wide. So just like Golden Locks, I now have refined my perfect small batch confiture bassin- a not too big, not too small, JUST RIGHT, second hand, acid-green le Creuset acquired last year at a brocante for a few paltry euros. Measuring about 24 cm and holding 4 liters, it is the PERFECT size for fast cooking a 2 kilo or 4.5 pounds of fruit plus sugar, etc. Now, I know by sight that when the casserole is half full (about 2 liters of cut up fruit), it is time to stop picking, pitting or peeling.

Next.

2 kilos or 4-5 pounds of figs with the stems trimmed off and cut or pulled into quarters. When the figs are as ripe as these, its easier just to pull them apart.

500 grams or one pound of rapadura sugar (the SECRET ingredient) The caramel/molasses flavor immediately darkens the fruit mixture into a deep jammy color.

500 grams other sugar- white, brown, raw, etc. This is where we start to get creative with what’s at hand.

One whole organic lemon: zest, juice and pulp- zest it, squeeze it, then scraped the pulp out with a spoon. Add it all.

I also added:

• a handful of wild blackberries
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 1 vanilla bean- split and scraped
• a large glug (that’s a metric measure) of orange juice

COOK. I put the flame on high under the fig-filled le creuset; dumped the sugar on top of the figs. Added the rest of ingredients and then waited. Just waited. As soon as I heard the juice from the orange, lemon and figs start to burble, I stirred. A quick stir to mix everything together and placed the lid on until it was boiling away nicely.

THEN. Take off the lid, adjust the heat so it won’t boil over and let cook about 15-20 minutes.

BLEND. I use the immersion/stick/magicwand blender and gave the mixture a half stir. Some chunks, some puree. Taste and adjust lemon if needed.

That’s it. It was sweet, dark and thick. Perfect. How did I know? It said so on the jar.

The new red hens are starting to lay their first eggs.  When the commotion in the chicken garden reaches a crescendo, I know there is yet another golden yolked egg waiting in the straw nest. But here in Gascony, even little Pigs crow. So when Judy Witts  and I start crowing this morning, it’s because after 4 years of reporting on all things pork at the Whole Hog Blog we made Saveur Magazine’s best of the web. Cluck, cluck, clucckkkk!

learning about pork from the ground up

While Judy has been giving online courses to chefs  in making Porchetta, I have been waking up at 4 in the morning (ouch!) to drive charcuterie apprentices to the abattoir, hauling 150-pound half carcasses in the trunk of my Renault Clio back home, and helping them learn the names and cuts of the French Pig from jarret to jambon.  Then we cook, cure & preserve all week until the larder is full, the pantry est plein.

My favorite French ‘pulled pork’ is called escaoudoun in the Gascon patois. Tasted in a hideaway of a cafe in the Landes forest called La Croute du Pin where it was made with the typique Noir de Gascogne pig, I re-created the dish here at Camont with most of the shoulder from Camas’ graduation pig.

Once it cooked in the sweet onion sauce for a two hours, I ladled the sauce pork into large canning jars. When unannounced friends arrive for dinner, I’ll cook some Monalisa potatoes and serve them floating on an island of sweet onions pork, just like Madame did.

Recipe- for  Estouffade de Porc- l’Escaoudoun

• 2 kilos / 4 1/2 lbs. of farm raised pork shoulder, cut into large cubes
• 1 kilo of onions, sliced thinly
• 2 soupspoons of duck fat
• 1 bottle of sweet wine wine (jurancon or cote de gascogne)
• 1/2 bottle madera, sherry or white port
• 1 generous glass of armagnac
• 2 large carrots, peeled and sliced
• a large bouquet garni- lovage, bay leaf, thyme
• sea salt to taste
• freshly ground black pepper, a lot of it!
• a large pick of quatre épice  (ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves)

The basic recipe is to cook all of the above until the onions have melted, the pork is falling apart and the flavors of the sweet wine mingle with the onion in a caramel-colored sauce.

Cook the onions in duck fat until they start to be translucent.  Add the pork and herbs, season (using only a little salt at this time to allow for reduction of the sauce), pour the wines and armagnac over the meat, cover and cook over a very slow heat for 2 hours or until meat is falling apart and the sauce is thick. Taste to reseason for salt. Serve warm with boiled potatoes.

This is the summer that was. Hot. Sultry. Summery. Not enough rain to keep the garden watered but the tomatoes are great! Hot enough to sleep with the fans on all night and drown out the aforementioned rooster’s night song.  A real rare hot Gascon summer where a good wet thunderstorm is what we need.

However, these dry days are perfect for harvesting the purple pod beans given to me by Robert Hammond at Honeyman Creek Farm. The little hand written package said that they came over the Oregon Trail in the 1850′s and now they are growing here at Camont in SW France. What seemed like an abundance of beans on the vine, now looks merely like one good cassoulet’s worth.  But that’s going to be a great Cassoulet- a l’Americaine!

When Vetou Pompele stopped by to sit in the shade, gossip and help me shuck beans, I dipped into ‘the piggery’ (the larder for those not used to Camont’s layout)  for a fast food lunch… French fast food. Vetou plucked some ripe coeur de boeuf tomatoes and three jars later plus one bottle, we were ready to schuck,  sort, and talk story the rest of the long hot day.

A Three Jar Lunch

1. pate de campagne ’09- this was a yet another taste test and yes, the was just enough salt and piment d’espelette.
2. estouffade or escaoudoune- a gascon version of pulled pork cooked with onions and sweet wine
3. confiture de tomates et chilis- my own potager version inspired by New Zealand friends. Hot, sweet and tangy!

After the lazy meal under glass, (actually it entailed hours of cooking but weeks ago!), I got down to business and nudged my faithful hound aside for another hot afternoon tradition- the Nap Attack. oh, these dog days…

a three bottle recipe

I am a fool. A fool for summer, for preserving… for anything growing within reach of the Kitchen-at-Camont. When walking Bacon down the towpath first thing on these French summer mornings or passing the Garden Shed on the way to feed the Flock, I have been counting the days to ripeness, sampling the wares for sweetness and getting ready to pounce on both wild and cultivated blackberries, as soon as there was enough to harvest.

A plate full was not enough to bother for confiture even with the extra raspberries. So in my usual Gasconne fashion, I turned to drink. Armagnac, specifically.

The ingredients on the bottle of artisan creme de mure sauvage calls for sugar and eau-de-vie. Nothing more. This is the simple life at its best! So I tipped the berries into a canning jar, added a generous scoop of white sugar, and covered the dark brooding berries with a bottle of eau-de-vie (simple clear brandy) and the remains of a favored bottle of Delord armagnac.  Cover and seal. Give a few quick shakes to break up the berries and melt the sugar. Eh voila! Now wait a month- the necessary patience until I taste test the brew.  Filter the fruit and seed out and decant the sweet dark summer liquor into a fancy bottle. Make a label. Write “Summer Fool ’09″

Preserving. These are the summer ways to remember a cool morning spent picking berries and listening to the quiet clucking of a new mother teaching her chicks to hunt and peck for a few stray ripe berries that drape across the chicken wire. This winter, after cursing the wet winter chores of mucking out the coop, I’ll remember summer ’09 better with a glass of Fool in hand.

‘Summer-under-Glass’ is a part of our

NEW  ‘Camp Camont’ programs at the Kitchen-at-Camont.