Eating a Whole Lobe of Foie Gras
I challenge you, Anthony Bourdain!
Foie Gras - Could you eat a whole lobe? Probably so. Pied au Cochon episode of "No Reservations" prompts a serious debate: What does "too much" when we're talking foie?
My love for foie gras is no secret. I take such delight savoring each morsel of foie, it nearly always prompts the question. "Do you think you could eat a whole lobe?" I usually answer in the affirmative. Then again, I'm the one wearing the T-shirt that says "The liver is evil and must be punished." Perhaps that was too much information.
But back to the duck's liver. Let's just say, if it's on the menu, it's a pretty safe bet that foie gras will be one of my selections. Watching Anthony Bourdain of "No Reservations" eat an insane (even by my standards) amount of this decadent treat was like heaven and hell combined. Goosebumps. I literally get goosebumps eating this stuff. I lusted, I but could only watch.
I know there are folks who decry the cruelty of the production of this delicacy. I just don't think it's productive to engage in a debate over who's drawing the proper line in the sand. Most of us are pretty removed from the harvesting of our food and what ends up on many of our dinner plates...well, let's leave that for another day.
Back to our intrepid gourmand and to foie gras. I was delighted when Chef Martin Picard, at Pied de Cochon said to his server, something like "just bring him dish after dish after dish of foie gras. We are not going to stop until he dies." I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but you get the idea. C. nearly got ill watching it all. I sat there, rapt; watching as dish by dish was placed in front of our fearless traveler. (By the way, I agree Anthony, it was cruel to save cassoulet to the end.)
Recently my husband hatched a plan to get me out of a slump. He came home with foie gras. To me, this is way better than flowers. Ready for another confession? This was my first attempt to prepare this favorite at home. Me, who grew up watching Julia. It's just that I've been fortunate to have tasted some masterful presentations of this treasured dish. The bar was high, the pressure was on. I knew the risks of melting the whole thing and ending up with a nice portion of really expensive fat for the next roasted potatoes.
But now I had a challenge and, if handled properly, a sinfully good treat would reward my efforts. It was a gift in itself, this excuse to spend a couple of days (it was vacuum-sealed) poring over all my favorite cookbooks, culling my trusted experts' tips and techniques, researching recipes on the 'Net and imagining how I would turn this treasure into the perfect dish. I put my husband to work finding the perfect wine (vintage Sauternes) and dove into the project.
Ultimately, I decided that I would sear it quickly in a not-too-hot pan. While I let it rest, I caramelized slices of apple, and reduced some berry-balsamic vinegar to achieve the balance of rich-tart-sweet I hoped for. I plated the pieces of foie gras alternating with slices of apple, drizzled balsamic glaze on top.
Success! Rich, delicate, success. He had a small serving and left the rest for me to enjoy. Could I eat a whole lobe? Quite possibly, yes.
- For my take on the foie gras ban, read When Foie Gras is Outlawed, Only Outlaws Will Have Foie.
