Ptipois

Qu'est ce que c'est, "lièvre en cabessol"? Google was most unhelpful. ← It is (as I wrote above), the ancient, original version of lièvre à la royale, so basically the same thing with a different name. I see it is more commonly referred to as "en cabessal" and you'll have more Google hits with that spelling.

Very aged comté is very different from younger, more common comté. Its texture is at the same time dry, melting, creamy and crumbly. Its color is a gentle straw yellow. It is better off crumbled with an oyster knife or a Parmesan knife, or shaved, than cut with a knife. The taste also is different from that of younger comté. Full, sweet with a lot of body, and a very strong, definite nutty taste. En bouche, the texture is unmistakable, firm and melting with tiny crispy caseine grains which you also get in other aged hard cheeses like cheddar or Parmesan. After a long aging, caseine concentrates into those little grains. It is not "chalk" as some people say or even grains of sand (I've heard that). The taste of aged comté, actually, because of its mildness and nuttiness, is closer to that of exceptional aged Parmesan or Cheddar than of unaged comté or other Jura or Alpine hard cheese. It differs from those last cheeses (Appenzell, Fribourg) by its mild taste. Beaufort is, in its young state, also stronger than comté. I have never had very aged beaufort and I am not even sure it can be aged as long as comté. The ideal wine match with an aged comté would be a Jura savagnin (vin jaune).

Aha, I might know that place. I have had that comté too. But, still, Klein takes the cake.

Oh, that's easy. When I am not physically in the Périgord or Quercy, I buy my duck and goose products from my local Champion, aiming for the generic brand "Reflets de France". They are manufactured by Larnaudie, a high-quality traditional brand, and are quite good. For foie gras, after trying all sorts of stuff at all sorts of prices, I always go back to Labeyrie's bloc de foie gras de canard avec morceaux. Canned cassoulet by Spanghero or La Belle Chaurienne is pretty much the best this kind of product can offer. Available in most supermarkets.

Among the non-European chefs, the choice is too large to come up with any fair selection. David Kinch is at the top of my list, that I am sure of. Perhaps followed by a long internship in the gardens and kitchens of the Centre Songhaï, in Porto Novo, Benin, and another one with a great Japanese chef, or perhaps Yu Bo in Chengdu. Still in Europe: I wouldn't mind a little training with René Redzepi, Jacques Thorel, Mauro Colagreco, and Fulvio Pierangelini.

I think I would pick Passard, Adria and Roellinger as my top choices. For France and Spain only.

It's one of those fads that will probably be short-lived, and it's actually "café gourmand".

I'd use grey salt from Guérande, found in any supermarket. The crystals are irregular-shaped but they are additive-free. A little pounding in a mortar should make it suitable. Or you might want to use fleur de sel if you're very rich, the crystals are more regular-shaped.

I must disagree Pti, a rare occasion. Since its ownership has changed the BAuB is a shadow of its old self, despite keeping the waitstaff "on." Their 120 FF game lunch with the vrai BAuB and chestnut puree was a treasure. ← I mentioned it out of habit, but it is true that I haven't checked it up for some time.

It might be later, but November and early December are the key period. If you see any "lièvre en cabessol" being served (not very likely in Paris because it is a Périgord recipe), go for it because it is the ancient, original version of lièvre à la royale.

On special order at Senderens. At Le Bristol. Maybe Gérard Besson. Definitely Bernard Loiseau (serves both recipes together). La Table de JR. ← A few restaurants do serve lièvre à la royale in Paris but it is a very seasonal dish, so most of those that do serve it only for a short period within the year, i.e. from one to three weeks. Beware: sometimes the dining-room is booked up weeks in advance just for that recipe. Philippe Delacourcelle at Le Pré Verre makes a wonderful lièvre à la royale sometime in November, but considering the chef's recent ventures you might have to go to Japan to order it this Fall. If he isn't in Paris then, don't bother ordering the dish, if indeed it is mentioned on the chalkboard at all. Don't forget La Biche au Bois for game in the Fall, they should have a LALR too. The best lièvre à la royale I ever had was prepared by Marie Naël, chef of Ecaille et Plume on rue Duvivier, back in the 90s. But that restaurant is no more and years later I still miss it.

Oh indeed I do! Nothing compares.

Hi Julot, long time since we last disagreed! Actually I agree with what you write, except that I think Anthony's aged comté is slightly better at Jean-Georges Klein's L'Arnsbourg than at L'Arpège. Maybe because Klein is only a short drive away from Anthony and never fails to give him a piece of his mind when cheeses are not at their very best.

L'Arpège is a great choice for game even out of the game season.

Auguste a total disaster, Gérard Besson very good, the others I have no experience of.

Priceless...

It is the idea that any scene has "moved across the Seine" that does not correspond to any reality. In terms of Parisian life that has no meaning at all. Trendy neighborhoods don't move across the city like swarms of bees moving to new hives, but the trendiness or gentrification factor of each area evolves over time, in their own way. No one ever said back in the 1950s that Saint-Germain-des-Prés was the new Montparnasse. Besides, when was the left bank trendy for the last time? Early 1970s, at the latest.

I don't think the words "new left bank" applied to any part of the right bank have any meaning in a Parisian context. I don't think any Parisian would think of it, at any rate I have never heard it. Each neighborhood is enjoyed in its own right and besides the mentioned parts of the right bank have been trendy for quite a while now.

I can confirm this through a similar experience I had at the 2007 Forum Gastronomic in Girona. The grand dîner was a "four-hands" provided by Andoni Luis Aduriz and Pascal Barbot. Although Aduriz, in my opinion (but pretty much everyone at our table agreed with that), flopped regrettably, Barbot did extremely well for such a large-scale dinner. Everything was spot-on, flawless and as precisely executed as if Pascal had been working in his own small kitchen. I too am not an enthusiastic fan of L'Astrance (rather a moderate fan) but I do appreciate that.

Too bad you couldn't get abomasum, Adam. Here in France it is not so easy to find either, though it is part of the traditional recipe. When you buy tripes à la mode de Caen in the mainstream commercial network like plastic-wrapped supermarket tripes, abomasum is often absent. It is always present when you buy in Normandy, directly from a charcutier, tripier or boucher who cook the dish on their premises.

If you can't have calves' feet, pig's feet will the closest equivalent. Is there no way you can ask a butcher for calves' feet or order them? Is it absolutely impossible to get calves' feet in Australia? (Not even kangaroo feet?)

If you have calvilles, you're a rich man. Calvilles are some of the most frequently mentioned apples in Norman recipes.

Nothing to be sorry about, there is a notorious cultural vagueness in this very area. Officially the Couesnon river separates Normandy from Brittany but a careful examination of the local architecture, accents, cooking, etc., tend to show that the whole area between Le Mont Saint-Michel and Cancale is actually more Norman than Breton, even if Cancale claims to be in Brittany. To me, Cancale and Le Mont are clearly in the same cultural region and I should say Brittany starts West of Cancale. Of course not everybody would agree with me.

Answer to this will be at its right place, in the Normandy thread.

Continued from the Brittany thread, a little info on the famous omelette à la mère Poulard. I have two versions of the recipe. Each one slightly different. I have no proof that either one is the "true" recipe. 1st version: Separate the yolks and whites of 8 fresh eggs. Add salt and pepper to the yolks only. Beat the yolks and the whites (stiff) in two separate vessels. Melt a nice piece of butter in hot frying pan. When it sizzles, add the yolks. When they begin to set, add a large tablespoonful of beaten crème fraîche then the stiff egg whites. Cook, stirring gently, shaking the pan until set. 2nd version (from Claude Guermont's The Norman Table): Eggs (whole) are beaten until 4 to 5 times their original volume, no salt added. Salted butter is melted in a dark steel pan. Eggs are added without stirring, then cooked gently until a light brown crust begins forming on the edge. Then the pan is put under the broiler for 15 seconds, folded and served. Another version of this omelette includes shucked oysters and oyster juice, chopped shallots and parsley. In that case it is called "omelette à l'eau de vive". Well you certainly get a perfectly good omelette this way, but you don't get a mère Poulard. The way she formulates it is typical of the way cooks with definite "tours de main" communicate with the outside world. Pastry chefs are very good at that too. As you may see in the Normandy thread, there are several versions of this recipe and some involve separating the eggs, some keeping them whole, but all of them require a thorough beating — much longer than for a normal omelette. I have heard for instance that the fact that the omelette is cooked on a wood fire (which makes any omelette extra light and fluffy as long as you pour the eggs into a very hot pan) is part of the "secret". Well for one thing those omelettes are cooked on a wood fire, but all the versions I have read mention that the butter should not be very hot, just "singing". So there goes the instant fluff effect. I rather tend to trust the common features among the several versions of mère Poulard omelette than the distinctly laconic description the lady gives in her letter...