An ode to foie gras
I usually write my odes to undervalued, inexpensive products, but with Christmas approaching, I’m noticing that I’m craving a nice thick slice of foie gras much more.
I know, not the most responsible choice, force-feeding and all, but honestly, I don’t really care that much. Foie is simply fucking delicious. As far as I’m concerned, Christmas isn’t complete without crusty fresh baguette with a slice of goose liver and a little coarse sea salt. The perfect drink snack, right?
A broiler chicken or a cow bred for cheap meat per kilo also has a much worse life than a goose, if you pay a little attention to quality. That goose isn’t force-fed until after about 80 days; before that, there’s nothing wrong with it. Normally, I barely eat meat, and when I do, I get it from a good butcher. So a few times a year, I allow myself a nice thick slice of foie.
Fried liver
I prefer that slice on the crusty baguette, as discussed above. But I also won’t say no to liver fried in a thick layer of butter in a pan. Fat on fat, always good, right? My ultimate foie highlight was when I ate at Paul Bocuse in Lyon and, as the first of five courses, was served two enormous slices of fried foie. By the end of the meal, I felt a little as if I had been force-fed myself, but it was certainly delicious.
