Castelnaudary Cassoulet

Yesterday John and I went to Castelnaudary to see the Canal, and the Moulin (windmill), but the real reason for the trip was to get a helping of cassoulet from the place that claims to have invented the concoction.  John and Catherine had not been able to work Castelnaudary in to their itinerary during their time here and since my arrival  I had not yet had cassoulet, which I love. It would be an afternoon of "firsts."

Castelnaudary windmill

Cassoulet, (cah-sou-lay) for those who have never heard of it, could dismissively be described as a fancy pork and beans.  People who call it that have obviously never eaten real cassoulet.  Yes, it contains pork, and yes, it contains beans, but that's like saying that chocolate chip cookies are made up of flour and pieces of chocolate.  Cassoulet is a casserole made of haricots blancs (dried white beans) that have been cooked, Toulouse style sausage, duck confit (preserved duck legs) and a cut of pork.  Badly made, it is heavy and can be fatty.  Properly made, it is love and comfort brought piping hot to your table.   

Canal drained for cleaning

Castelnaudary claims to be the birthplace of cassoulet and there is a whole cult built around it---the proper dish in which to cook it, for how long, how much garlic, how to prepare the meats, how to prepare the beans, what kind of fire to use.  There is a confrerie (brotherhood) of cassoulet, based in Castelnaudary, whose members, complete with robes and sashes,  are experts on all things cassoulet.  There are rivalries as to which region's cassoulet is the best--Carcassonne? Toulouse?  Castelnaudary?  Do you add tomatoes or is that heresy? 

We chose Le Tirou as the place to get our cassoulet.  We should have checked in advance for the exact address and to make sure they were open.  I fugured Castelnaudary isn't that big, how hard could it be to find?  Although it should have occurred to me that it might be closed for the season, I figured anything that renowned would most likely be open.  Besides, I knew that in Castelnaudary there was bound to be someplace open that would serve its village specialty. You can check out its website here--they have posted photos of their cassoulet along with photos of the restaurant and their garden. We should have done this in advance, but there you go!

http://www.letirou.com/fr/pag1-Le-Restaurant.html

As it turned out, Le Tirou was a bit of a hike outside of town.  Neither John nor I bothered to get the exact address or directions--after all, Castelnaudary simply is not that big.  We turned the wrong way out of the train station and therefore added perhaps a kilometer to our walk.  As it turned out, as we asked locals (the tourist office being closed for lunch, naturelment) and they directed us out of town, back toward Carcassonne.  So we had a bit of a walk, (and you know it always seems longer when you don't know exactly where you are going) but it was a nice day, not too cold or windy, so the exercise was welcomed.  John was more concerned with it being open than I was, I think.  

Empty boat basin

We did find it--a rather unassuming location behind a gas station on the main road back to Carcassonne.  And yes, there were cars in the parking lot, so the Cassoulet gods were smiling upon us.  We went in to a clean, well appointed but not fancy restaurant and were seated by a very pleasant young man with an excellent command of English.  It turned out that he spent at least two years studying in Edinburgh and is the son of the chef and owner.  He is being groomed to take over the business, quite obviously.  

We ordered the formule--entree, main and dessert.  I had a smoked duck breast/gizzard salad and John had the warm goat cheese and honey salad. The young waiter brought us a basket of bread made on the premises--delicious.  Thankfully I had only one piece.  Then the main attraction arrived.  The waiter placed a vat of cassoulet in front of me and said to John, "Yours is on the way out."  I must have turned white as a sheet, because this casserole was huge.  It couldn't possibly be for one or even two people.  The young man smiled and said he was joking; this was for both of us.  He then proceeded to serve me, with a piece of pork, a Toulouse sausage, a duck leg and lots of lovely buttery beans.  John received identical service.  This young man was proud of what he was placing before us.

View from the windmill

I won't wax too rhapsodic about it.  I will say only that it was the best cassoulet I have ever eaten, and that included the cassoulet I make.  Not fatty, and the meats and beans cooked to perfection.  The seasonings were spot on.  The more I ate, the better it tasted.  And there was absolutely no way John and I could finish the meal.  There was probably a third of the casserole left.  This was one time I wished the French would relax their no doggie bag rule.  Dessert, which was included, for me was simply a dish of two small boules of lime sorbet with the rinds cut up in it.  Not too sweet, not too heavy.  

Neither John nor I felt "bloated or overstuffed" which is the mark of a really good meal, I think.  We felt sated and energized for our walk back into town and then up the hill to see the windmill.  I had been excited to show John the lovely boat basin and the windmill and the shop where I bought my first and now my second cassole to prepare my own cassoulet.  The Canal has been drained for cleaning, and there's scarcely any water in it at all.  Dining along the waterfront would not have been a pleasant experience in the least.  Even now, as I look at the pictures I took, I am having trouble processing the look of the water-less Canal and boat basin.  But I suppose this is necessary every so often to keep it from filling completely with debris,  both organic and man-made.

Grinding stone and one of the now-still vanes

The windmill delivered, though.  It is my favorite spot in Castelnaudary.  It overlooks the valley that reminds me so very much of the countryside where I grew up.  There were no tourists about, and just like Carcassonne, this little town, which was deserted when we arrived came to life after lunch.  If people are eating cassoulet, I understand even more why they would linger. 

John and Catheine