The Forest at Camont November 2019

November wraps her foggy cloak around Camont like a felted room in which song birds still sing muffled by damp leaves and darker mornings. Chica and I take abbreviated walks to the hens to make sure the little automatic door (thank you Chicken Guards!) has adjusted to the time change. I am grateful for the extra hour of light in the morning. I regret the darker evenings.

I build the first fires in the jaunty kitchen stove. September and October were both so warm this is the first time we’ve needed to; more to remove the damp than raise the temperature. There are four stères ( a cubic meter) of dry oak wood waiting the first real cold, and the piles of old oak branches and trimmed acacia trees scattered around the park will be gathered and brought in for fueling a winter barbecue or two. Just like the pique-niques I wrote about in the latest Saveur website here, cooking outside can be a four season event. I use my small Portuguese beehive oven all year round when I want to make something smokey and spicy, or just perfectly cook a côte de boeuf.

I take stock of the late garden, knowing that the compost pile will benefit mostly from the last tomato plants and the straggling pumpkin vines. The September planted mâche and roquette are now filling out promising winter salads for the next few months; small upright fennel settle in for the slow growing season. Mâche has many names in English- Lamb’s Lettuce being the one I know but Valerianella locusta is the official name. It’s a fabulous bright, dark, and mild-tasting green that ruffles out a plate. Sometimes you just need a leaf or two.

So, of course, that leads us to Cassoulet. Right? All roads at Camont lead to Cassoulet at this time of year. But something that might go with all the rest of the seasonal goodness—pumpkins, winter greens, and especially cassoulet—is an easy solid recipe for Saucisse de Toulouse. Nothing is as easy or taste as delicious as these fat juicy porky sausages served with a creamy Purée de Pommes de Terre or nestled in a plate of slow-cooked haricots Tarbais. If you want more beany instruction, then my Cassoulet; A French Obsession cookbook is for you. Rancho Gordo will even send you a couple pounds of freshly harvested California Cassoulet beans (ie. Tarbais); if you live outside of the US the book is available via Amazon here.

I feature this recipe in the Cassoulet book but here’s a jump start from our latest Camp Charcuterie: France workshop. Five students from around the world gathered here at Camont for a week of Whole-Carcass Butchery and French Farmstead Charcuterie. One of the first things we make after learning to separate the shoulder and belly from the ham, is to make some fresh sausage or Saucisse de Toulouse. Want to know more about learning Butchery and Charcuterie in France? Check out our 2020 dates on the Camp Charcuterie page here.

Li, Carlos and Dominique making Saucisse de Toulouse at Camont

Saucisse de Toulouse

Fresh Pork Sausage

By French Law, a Saucisse de Toulouse has to follow a number of serious defining points to be able to be sold under the name. However, there is nothing stopping you from making these succulent fat fresh pork sausages at home. Of all the products we make during a Camp Charcuterie week, these are by far my favorite. It’s like eating a piece of the juiciest roasted pork with a built-in sauce of pan juices and gravy, all in a crusty brown casing. Remember, your sausage will only be as good as the pork that you buy. Go to the butchers, ask for some fresh shoulder meat and some unsalted belly, and see if they’ll sell you some 32-35mm casings as well. Otherwise, just make some thick patties and enjoy!

House-made Saucisse de Toulouse from Camp Charcuterie:France

Saucisse de Toulouse

1 kilo Pork- 80% lean 20% fat ratio the easiest way is to by 800g lean shoulder meat and 200g belly

14 g Salt- or 1.4% Coarse sea salt works best

2 g Pepper- or .2% Make sure to grind it fresh!

Mix all of the above together before grinding on an 8mm hole size plate. Once ground, mix well together until there is some binding or stickiness develops. Stuff into natural hog casings 32-35mm size, if using lamb casings we call these chipolatas.

Do not link. Instead make a nice spiral that will fit in your pan. Let rest or temper over night int eh refrigerator uncovered or under a tea towel, you want the casings to be dry before cooking. Cook over a high enough heat to brown the casings, then turn and lower the heat, cooking until just down- a pale pink blush of medium pork in the center.

That’s it. No wine, no garlic, no spices. The idea is to show off the high quality well grown local pork- usually 10-12 months old at slaughter. In France, people still appreciate the meatiness of these sausages. Let me know what you think!

November 17 2017

Remember those sweet plaintive cries from far overhead of wide wingspan birds- geese, cranes, and storks? They haunt my many November souvenirs of France. Each fall I would write about their comings and goings as a bell that tolls the passing hours. First October. Then November. Next, deep dark December.

Camont sits on the most important European flyway that guides thousands of migrations from northern Europe to southern Spain across the Pyrenees and over the water to African winter feeding grounds. Each November I’d wake to hundreds of calling birds overhead and be stricken blue as they seemed to herald the coming cold, the darkening days. Damn that November and its foggy days.

Oh, what a little change in perspective can bring. this year I missed the migration while traveling and teaching in the US.  It was only now that I consider that the melancholia might be mine only at the end of long year and that the far above calls might be instead whoops of joy and daring aerial challenges. “ I’m taking the lead boys, move aside!” Or “Last one to Africa is a rotten egg!”

While November does end one long season of teaching, touring, and workshopping, so it begins another--a new season of planning, festivity, and gathering in at Camont. Throw in an expat Thanksgiving, a Champagne birthday feast, a Cassoulet Cooking Class or two, and a local celebration of fruit trees and orchards and you’ll see why I am changing my perspective on looking forward at the flyway instead of regretting the miles left behind. P.S. You needn’t pause in mid-flight to change your point of view.

So, I am no longer looking back on the thousands of miles of words written on this blog. You’ll notice the archives and their recipes have ‘disappeared’ to be gently replaced by new thoughts and stories here. From time to time, you, too, can fly down this new path with me as I upcycle many of those classic Gascon recipes for “The Big Cookbook Project”. Working along with Tim Clinch, photographic cohort who has been documenting Camont for nearly 20 years now, I am also looking at the past with a fresh eye for how we shop and cook now, who really cooks, how I still make the time. When I lack inspiration, I need only look at the Camont’s Windfall Harvest that Tim shot a few November’s ago. It speaks volumes of winter dishes I long to cook now- a deep ruby caramelized quince and duck stew, some tart crabapple vinegar to splash over bitter greens, and buttery apple croustades with bright sugar snow drifts across the egg-washed pastry top.

So while you think that November food might climax with turkey and stuffing, pumpkin pies and groaning tables in America, I look forward, too. To my Australian friends like Annie Smithers for Spring hope as their gardens just begin to sprout. I'll watch southern orchards blossom as I prune this year’s French winter branches back. While looking behind, it’s not such a bad idea to look a little more forward after all. Last one to 2018 is a rotten egg!

Truc*: to Caramelize Quince

Quarter and core a few unpeeled quinces, place in a terracotta dish or cast iron pan with a tight-fitting lid, add an inch of water in the bottom of the pan, heavily douse with raw sugar- about 1/2 cup per quince, place the lid on and bake at a low temperature (150'C/ 325'F) for 1- 2 hours. DO NOT STIR! The quince will turn deep red, the sugar will melt and caramelize across the fruit, the syrup from the juices will reduce and be wonderfully sticky. remove from heat, let cool and then gently lift the fruit out into a jar. Reserve any excess syrup for drinks or desserts. 

* A truc is a little trick or a tip that I learned along the way. Sometimes learned by accident, sometimes a generous gift from a Gascon cook.