cassoulet

I first tried it ten years ago, when I was working with Fred at Pierre’s in Temple Bar. Now, every winter, the madness descends, and I roam the city in search of white beans, goose confit, the crust broken six times and allowed to remain the seventh time it forms.

Last night, Bistro Clovis: a perfect cassoulet in the style of Toulouse. Jeremy had salmon in a banana leaf. The tarte tatin was also superb, with tender pastry, caramelized apples and a dollop of dense, sour creme fraiche. All with a bouncy Beaujolais that inspired me to song.

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