This past weekend I was in Washington, D.C., and a group of us dined at La Colline, one of the best French restaurants in the district. Several of us ordered the Cassoulet de Castelnaudary from the $30.00 fixed price menu. Given that my knowledge of French cuisine is only slightly better than my familiarity with quantum physics, I didn’t recognize the “de Castelnaudary” designation. It turns out that, besides identifying the place of origin of the famous stew, it is also a declaration of cultural correctness. Asking a room full of French people about how to prepare a cassoulet is akin to asking a convention of NASCAR fans where to get the best chili. Except the French don’t drive pickup trucks and vote Republican.
There are three “traditional” versions, often referred to as the “Holy Trinity” of cassoulet. The “Father” is the Castelnaudary version (containing pork and goose), which is acknowledged as the original. The “Son,” is a version from Carcassone (add mutton and partridge). And the “Holy Spirit” comes from Toulouse (add to the Castelnaudary version sausage, mutton and duck). That’s the idea anyway. While the French take their cuisine more seriously than their theology, there is as much heterodoxy in modern-day kitchens as there is in modern-day parishes.
Fine Cooking magazine cites Ariane Daguin, proprietor of D'Artagnan foods and D'Artagnan Rotisserie in New York City on the provincialism that cassoulet can stir up. “‘Cassoulet isn’t a recipe, it’s a way to argue. Forget about Castelnaudary, forget about Toulouse,’ she added, alluding to rival towns in her native southwest France. ‘I'm from Auch, and ours is the best.’ According to Daguin, only duck and goose go into a proper cassoulet. What about tomato? ‘Ah, no, no,’ she scoffed. Lamb? ‘Never, ever ever!’ Breadcrumbs? ‘Oh, no — the cassoulet should form its own crust,’ she said firmly. ‘Cassoulet inspires certain chauvinistic tastes and opinions,’ muses Daguin. ‘Everyone thinks theirs is the greatest — except in my case, it’s true.’”
Cassoulet has its origins in war, specifically the 100 Years War, during which the French reserves found themselves exhausted and demoralized, surrounded by the British army. The people of Castelnaudary gathered all their available food and cooked it in a “cassole,” from which the dish gets its name. The stew was so hearty that the fortified French troops rushed from their meal to force the British to retreat all the way back to the shore of the English Channel.
It is notable that La Colline is in direct view of the Capitol Building. Perhaps the Democrats might consider ordering some cassoulet take-out to fortify themselves for the next legislative session.
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