Cassoulet: Savory Taken Seriously

No French dish is as steeped in history, myth and religion as cassoulet. Natives of southwestern France's Languedoc region link their very cultural identity to the archetypical peasant dish, a rich, earthy casserole of beans, meat and herbs. Cassoulet is said to date back to the 14th century siege of Castelnaudary during the Hundred Years' War, when citizens created a communal dish so hearty their revivified soldiers sent the invaders packing. But since then several cities have laid claim to the true recipe. In a conciliatory gesture, chef Prosper Montagné decreed in 1929 that "God the father is the cassoulet of Castelnaudary, God the Son that of Carcassonne, and the Holy Spirit that of Toulouse."

Today, Montagné's spiritual heirs gather under the banner of the Académie Universelle du Cassoulet, a group of chefs dedicated to cooking traditional cassoulet across Languedoc and beyond. The Academy's Route des Cassoulets offers a visitor's guide to the region, directing the hungry and the curious to restaurants where they can experience all the tastes of the dish. "Cuisine is my religion," says Academy founder Jean-Claude Rodriguez. "Montagné wrote about cassoulet with love, and I try to cook that way." At Restaurant Château Saint-Martin in Carcassonne, Rodriguez faithfully recreates cassoulet à l'ancienne, with white beans from the village of Mazères, aged ham, pork rind, pig's foot and knuckle meat. And in season, Rodriguez adds (on request) the authentic Carcassonne touch: wild partridge in lieu of duck confit.

Rodriguez acknowledges Castelnaudary's status as the capital of cassoulet, but shudders at the sheer volume of the stuff generated in the town's environs: an average of 120 tons is factory-canned there every day. Luckily, at his lively restaurant Au Petit Gazouillis, Alain van Ees Beeck has been cooking Castelnaudary cassoulet from scratch for nearly 20 years. With peppery Montagne Noire sausage, creamy Lauragais beans — slow-cooked with ham hock for a rich, smoky taste — and the farm-raised duck confit famous in Castelnaudary, Van Ees Beeck can boast an authenticity no mass-produced cassoulet can match.

Philippe Puel, chef at the elegant Le Cantou in Toulouse, agrees, but says to assure the dish's longevity a chef must "adapt these ancient recipes to our modern lifestyle." He adds fresh Toulouse sausage as tradition there demands, but uses a lighter, sweeter Tarbes bean, finely sliced pork rind and leaner duck confit, and trades cassoulet's typical black crust, the result of hours spent in the oven, for a lightly browned one. It's not his grandmother's cassoulet, but you won't need a nap after finishing it, either.

In the end, the true liturgy of cassoulet isn't in 
 the recipe, says Rodriguez, but rather in the special 
 moment when friends gather around a large, steaming earthenware caçòla and meal becomes Mass. "Cassoulet has such a religion around it because it's the plat de partage — the dish of sharing," he says. "When a cassoulet arrives at the table, bubbling with aromas, something magical happens — it's Communion around a dish." Amen! www.routedescassoulets.com