Duck Laden Afternoon... France (Fall Sessions 2011)

 Going over menu ideas for the January duck repas, Katie and I found ourselves reliving a lunch we'd had on a misty afternoon in a sleepy enclave just northeast of Barbezieux. Sliding through a series of low hills and subsequent hollows, we'd been tipped off by acquaintances who'd generously given up one of their favorite "neighborhood" gems. Quite a neighborhood it is with two bio (organic) farms, a spot that focuses on small pigs and geese, another that does foie gras, and lastly the Auberge des Grands Aulnais where duck is served in many a remarkable way.

 Despite very clear directions, it was not easy to find as the landscape kept nearly all of the concerns mentioned tucked subtly away from each other; around a bend, behind a knoll, down a lane. It was only when happening upon the farm producing foie gras that we took a shot at a driveway set opposite that led us to the auberge. Greeted by an old pooch roused from sleep, we slid into the nearly empty restaurant; a pleasant byproduct of a late, mid-week lunch. The simple decor of plastic tables covered in oil clothes seemed perfect as the rain increased it's pace, and us with nothing to do but eat the preferred meat of the house.

 Glasses of pineau arrived, the port-like blend of eau-de-vie and young red wine reminding us that we had no where to be. A terrine of zucchini soup soon followed, puréed smooth, helping to keep the damp from settling upon us. As a piché of simple Bordeaux was set on the table so were sautéed duck livers and gizzards served with lightly tossed lettuces, the former plump and tender, the latter with a subtle crisping about the edges. A few slices of smoked duck breast along with a chunk of rillette were slipped onto the plate for good measure. Decadent, with no argument from us. With drops leaving large circles on the pond beyond the windows of our table, Isabelle, the cook and owner, kindly allowed us stove side as she finished off Katie's confit cuisse de canard and my magret au poivre. Warm and calm, the kitchen a reflection of those that used it. 

 Again seated, Katie's duck leg slow cooked in it's own fat until falling off the bone, was tender and succulent. We traded bites, as my á point duck breast with green pepper corn sauce proved the equal to her dish. Both came with potatoes fried in duck fat, of course!!! Cheese followed, more red was poured, and the rain continued. Somehow we managed to share a slice of apple tart, not able to say no to the morning's efforts. Coffee yes, cognac no; hard to do, but necessary with a drive home still to come. 

 As we stepped out into the fresh of the rain soaked afternoon, we were treated to a few bands of warm sunshine. They stayed with us for a stroll about the frontage of the small lake, and for most of the drive back to Charmé. Coming over a rise just the other side of Montigné, a bit of roadway still to cover before home, the horizon was inked in black; streaks of lightening implying little good. We somehow slid below it's menacing presence, the first ping of hail hitting the car's rooftop as we hustled inside the house. The iron wood burner caught on the first match, and the cognac passed over at lunch seemed right to lift  the chill present before the fire warmed the room. Images by Robert Hass kept my attention while Katie turned to a collection of the Times crosswords. The field turned white with the falling ice, and we were home.

http://www.chez-gautier.com