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« The Horse Crisperer: horse fat french fries | Main | Dill-icious: Kool-Aid pickles »

June 25, 2007

Flogging a dead horse: Au Pied de Cochon's foie gras poutine with horse fat fries

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Italy boasts one of the richest gastronomic inheritances of any country.  It seems unfair that any place, let alone one tiny corner of that country, Emilia-Romagna, should be home to so much culinary gold: parmigiano, prosciutto di Parma, balsamic vinegar, mortadella, and pasta fresca.  As mouthwatering as that list is, keep in mind that it excludes an even longer list of gastronomic treasures from other parts of the belpaese: Piedmont's white truffles, the risotto of Piedmont, Lombardy, and the Veneto, and Tuscany's olive oils.  And that's just a selection of northern Italian specialties, there's still the south.  And the wine.

Yet I can't help but feeling that Italians cheat themselves.  Don't get me wrong, this italophile wishes he could wake up many mornings in Bologna or Rome, start the day with a cappuccino, and then gorge on local specialties.  But have you ever eaten marvelous foreign food in Italy?  Yes, there exists the occasional Chinese or Indian restaurant, but they are largely an afterthought in a country where gastronomic xenophobia is the norm.  What chance does food from the other side of the world have in a country where food from the other side of the mountain is viewed with disdain? 

Canada -- English Canada, really -- is a different story altogether.  With perhaps the exception of Newfoundland, we have no native cuisine.  The Great White North is a gastronomic Great White Canvas.  Over the past century, we've begun filling that canvas with the smells, tastes, and textures of the countless ethnic groups that weave the fabric of this country.  Nowhere is this phenomenon more evident that in our major urban centres.  Walk the streets of Toronto, for example, and you'll be confronted by a series of delights from around the world.

I often stroll from my house, in the heart of Little Italy, to Chinatown. It takes just twenty minutes, but it's all the proof I need that I live in the midst of something unique.  The first half of the walk is a parade of (admittedly sub-par) Italian restaurants, but the second half is special: the Kensington Market, which lies just beyond Little Italy, is now home to a bevy of Latin-American restaurants and groceries, where I have my choice of tacos, empanadas, and pupusas, all washed down by cool, refreshing horchata.  One block beyond the Kensington, lies Chinatown itself, and crowds of people choking the sidewalks for bánh mì, and other Vietnamese delicacies, or gazing at the lacquered skin of whole barbecue ducks and juicy sides of pork in Chinese restaurant windows.

If Canada does have any kind of recognizable native cuisine, then it most surely comes from Quebec.  While English Canadians have wasted decades ridiculing Quebec's dining habits -- most notably by lampooning Quebec's preference for Pepsi over Coke -- Quebeckers have been busy refining their native cuisine to a point where it now merits attention outside la belle province.

Such recognition is due in no small part to the efforts of people like Martin Picard, the chef-owner of Au Pied de Cochon, a Montreal restaurant specializing in upscale, refined quebecois dishes crafted from regional ingredients, like duck, pork, and foie gras.  The restaurant now enjoys a cult-like status among foodies thanks to apostles like Anthony Bourdain, who preaches about Au Pied de Cochon as a restaurant where "magical things happen," and through it's cookbook, Au Pied de Cochon - The Album.

I lack adequate superlatives to describe this book.  It's more than a cookbook.  It's a meditation on food and pleasure and identity. Beyond that, the writing and the accompanying DVD entertain, and the dishes are stunning and accessible to home cooks.  I stumbled upon it at The Cookbook Store, where, after only a brief glance, I recognized it for what I'm even more firmly convinced it is now: a masterpiece.  I simply could not bring myself to leave the store without buying it.  If you love foie gras, you owe it to yourself to buy this book -- for the love of God, Picard uses it so liberally in his dishes you'd think it's salt.  Sadly, the book is not widely available; it's self-published, and The Cookbook Store is, as far as I know, the only vendor outside of Montreal.  It can, however, be ordered directly from Au Pied de Cochon's website.

What better way to celebrate St. Jean Baptiste Day, otherwise known as fête nationale in Quebec, than to prepare one of Au Pied de Cochon's signature dishes, a sybaritic re-imagining of poutine?  For the uninitiated, poutine is a magical combination of french fries smothered in cheese curds and gravy.  Poutine has quickly spread from the rural diners of its roots, becoming so ubiquitous that Burger King now offers it across Canada and restaurants in New York list it on their menus.  My introduction to poutine came as a drunken undergrad at Queen's, finishing Saturday nights at Lino's, the local greasy spoon, with a fortifying plate of cheesy fries and gravy to steady me for the walk home.

Both poutine and I have matured immensely since then.  Au Pied de Cochon's recipe includes an extravagantly rich gravy made by combining foie gras, a half dozen egg yolks, and some cream in a food processor, then mixing that with hot poutine sauce.  I phoned Au Pied de Cochon to see if they ship their homemade poutine sauce to Toronto, but, alas, they do not. My solution was to use veal demi-glace instead.  That was a good decision.  As was turning to Monforte Dairy, local producers of top notch artisanal sheep's milk cheese, for fresh cheese curds.  For the french fries, well, I hope I don't have to explain that I looked no further than the star of my previous post: horse fat fries.  The finished dish, gilded with a thick slice of seared foie, is breathtakingly decadent, a plate so rich it almost -- almost -- goes overboard.  The demi-glace adds a profound meaty taste, the foie gras a richness and a faint note of liver, while gooey, melting cheese complements the lush texture of the gravy and contrasts the crispiness of the fries.  If fault can be found, then it must surely lie in the fact that gravy, no matter how delicious, is a death knell for the crisp texture of a carefully prepared french fry.

Having tackled poutine, I can't wait to explore other traditional recipes in the book, from tourtière, rustic meat pie, to artery-clogging oreilles de crisse, slices of pork fat deep fried in lard.  Luckily, one of my favourite butchers, The Healthy Butcher, is near the Kensington.  Maybe I'll grab an empanada on the walk over.

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Comments

mat

Ah a fellow Queen's alum,

I am a much more recent one than you it seems though as Lino's did not exist while I was there.

Our local poutine fix was Bubba's. There was two of them, and there was many a row over which of the two had the better poutine. I liked the one closer to the water.

My friends who moved on to grad work at McGill often lament that they can't find cheap, good poutine (the opposite of the post!) in Montreal that was as good as the Bubba's we got in Kingston.

Cheers,

Lisa (Homesick Texan)

We now have a Canadian gastropub here in NYC modeled after Au Pied de Cochon. Haven't been yet, and the reviews have been mixed, but it is a sign that Canada does indeed have a cuisine worth exporting! Bring on the the poutine!

ChuckEats

it may have been a bad meal, but my APC meal was nothing I care to repeat. regardless, i don't think i'd call it "refined."

http://chuckeats.com/blog3/2007/06/19/au-pied-du-cochon-montreal-no-reservations/

the book does sound like a work of art though.

kevin

Tourtierre (http://seriouslygood.kdweeks.com/2005/12/tourtierre.html) is an awesome dish.

Anon

As far as the book Au Pied de Cochon, the following is where I bought my copy: http://www.archambault.ca/store/Product.asp?mscssid=89FB63103EFCA1D2CBF1746AF56025D0&sku=001927071&type=5

French version is also available at this site.

Chapters/Indigo also lists it: http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/Au-Pied-de-Cochon-Picard-Martin/9782980949845-item.html?ref=Search+Books%3a+'2980949841'&sterm=2980949841+-+Books

A Dam

Have you been to Au Pied de Cochon? I was there a couple of weeks ago, and I have to say, it was a life-changing experience for me. I'm just lucky I don't live in Montreal, because I'd be there every night of the week. ...Their poutine is deliciously, extravagantly, insane.

Stephen

Poutine is the best dish ever invented!

Nancy

When I worked in Ottawa from 1989-91, I was a regular customer of the Quebecoise poutine vendor parked outside the Confederation Building. Ahhhh. http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/consumers/canada-cuisine.html

Bob dG

Foie gras or non, even though I've never eaten poutine, a the endogenous imp who dictates my diet tells me that this dish is "other."
Weird, freakish food, eaten by the cold people of the north. People who squat on their haunches around coal fires and speak of strange things while the aurora dances the story of their fate to their incomprehension.
Poutine...the sound of it makes me weak.

Word up there RM!

Gourmet

:)
Rob you are great!!! I love this blog!
goodnight... :o)

Ms. Glaze

Rob! Oh putain – I mean poutine! – this sounds delicious. Reminds me of chili cheese fries at 3AM in the morning, but more upscale obviously. Btw, tried the deep fried oreo recipe. Pretty good! I found the oreos here in the local supermarket. I might make a video on it in your honor! Bises, Ms. Glaze

rcianci

Au Pied is not refined in the sense of white table cloths and somber headwaiters. Instead it offers a kind of "roots" cooking; Casse-croûte and Caban à Sucre dishes refined by professional technique, luxury ingredients like foie gras, and an earthy sense of humour. People who go there looking for the first kind of refinement or want any sort of preciousness in their dining experience are going to be disappointed.

Rebecca (Foodie With Family)

I have a near constant craving for poutine. I saw it on Bourdain's "No Reservations" and ran to our Amish run local cheese shop for curds the next day. I'm devoted.

I'm a yooper who grew up on pasties. How 'bout a pasty and poutine meal? That'd be food coma time, eh?

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Mariage may be compared to a cage:the birds outside deapair to get in and those within despair to get out. (Michel de Montaigne, French thinker and ssayist)

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