Thinking about cooking foie gras is almost as much fun as actually cooking it because it’s such an unusual product. But of course, it is much more fun to eat foie gras than to simply think about eating foie gras because the pleasure is so ethereal. For such a luxury, this is as it should be.
If you do not know how special foie gras is, you haven’t had it—or you haven’t had it properly prepared. Foie gras is very easy to prepare badly. Cut too thin and sautéed, it overcooks and becomes a diminutive shred of itself, with an unpleasant flavor and texture. If it has been cooked in a terrine but is served skimpily and with a rim of gray around it, it has oxidized and the flavor will be off, and of course the texture will have been compromised as well. The proper texture of foie gras is unusual—and one of its great pleasures.
Happily, foie gras is just as easy to prepare well. When you present a properly sautéed medallion of foie gras that has been cut at least ¾ inch/2 centimeters thick and has been scored, sautéed rare to medium-rare, and given a beautiful crust with a sprinkling of Maldon salt, you are serving an unparalleled delicacy.
By far the best way to prepare and serve and eat foie gras is lightly cooked and served cold in the form of a pâté. Here the glory of the foie gras—its mild, sweet flavor and rich, butter-like texture—is at its peak. Indeed, it seems to have been the preferred way of preparing foie gras in one of its homelands, France. (Israel is also famed for its foie gras. Foie gras’s origins date to the ancient Egyptians.) So much so that when French food began to migrate to the United States in the 1950s and 1960s, the term pâté became almost exclusively associated with foie gras. While pâtés can certainly be made of foie gras, few are. The majority of pâtés need no liver of any kind—though, of course, many owe their rich taste and smooth texture to the judicious use of pork or calf or chicken liver.
Foie is the French word for liver, and gras means fat. The term originally referred to the fattened liver of the goose, but foie gras from the Muscovy duck (or the Mulard, a hybrid of Muscovy and Pekin ducks) accounts for most of the foie gras served in the United States. But calling it liver—or thinking of it as liver or tasting like liver—does it a disservice, at least for those who know only ordinary liver, because foie gras is not like ordinary liver at all. It doesn’t have that strong iron flavor and spongy texture that chicken and calf liver has. Because of its extraordinary fat content, it is more like a savory butter than a meat.
Much misunderstanding surrounds the breeding and raising of ducks for their liver because they are fed a substantial diet via a feeding tube slipped down the throat. In the early 2000s, American farms that raised ducks for foie gras, and especially chefs who served foie gras, were subject to much protest (one chef’s home was vandalized and his family threatened) for perceived cruelty to animals.
Having visited foie gras farms and seen the ducks being fed and raised, we can only say that we wish all animals raised for our food could be treated with such care. The ducks had plenty of pasture to roam. When in the fattening stages, called gavage, they waddled eagerly to the person feeding them. Indeed, the fattened liver is so delicate a product that only a well-tended and stress-free duck could grow this valuable food. (The breast, called magret, is as rich and thick and juicy as a medium-rare strip steak. The legs are typically used for confit; see pages 159 to 179.)
California banned foie gras from being sold in 2004, and a judge ruled in 2017 that the ban could be reinstated. This will and should be resisted. Frankly, both Brian and I believe that anyone who is in favor of the ban but is not also in favor of a ban on all animals being raised for their meat is misinformed at best. Ducks raised for foie gras, at least on good farms, are among the best-treated animals anywhere. Protest the raising of animals for meat, by all means, but don’t try to single out and outlaw foie gras for its supposed cruelty.
The issue doesn’t generate much media anymore. Perhaps the foie gras protestors have set their sights elsewhere (there are, in fact, problems in our food system of a much greater magnitude, such as the billions of commodity animals on so-called factory farms, that could benefit from their attention). For whatever reason, the brouhaha has happily died down, and now cooks can get back to cooking.
And the cooking of foie gras is fun indeed.
Here we present a standard of preparation—a fundamental ratio and technique—and then offer examples of the primary ways foie gras can be used in the charcutier’s kitchen. The recipe we begin with is the very special form of this pâté called a foie gras au torchon—French for “foie gras in a dishtowel”—along with the basic seasoning ratio and fundamental principles of working with foie gras that is to be served cold. The second recipe is virtually the same thing, only cooked in a terrine mold. We also offer a foie gras mousse, a whipped preparation that’s lighter than a pâté, and we have a terrine in which chunks of foie gras serve as an enriching garnish in a conventional meat-based terrine. And finally, there is a more contemporary preparation that pairs foie gras with one of its great partners, mango (though you could also use peach or sweet-tart apple, or even tart Michigan cherries).
THE FOIE GRAS AU TORCHON
I learned this preparation in 1997 while working with Thomas Keller at his restaurant the French Laundry in Yountville, California. It was he who taught me the fundamentals of serving foie gras. Every afternoon, at around three o’clock, Keller portioned the foie gras that would be sautéed. He cut each piece with his long slicing knife (I never saw him use a chef’s knife), seeming to take great pleasure with each stroke through the soft, clay-like lobe. Each medallion was ½ to ¾ inch/15 to 20 millimeters thick. “You have to cut it this thick in order to get a good sear on the outside and the right texture inside. A lot of chefs, because it’s such an expensive ingredient, cut the foie gras too thin. When it’s too thin you can’t get a good sear without overcooking the inside. The inside should be molten.”
Likewise, with the foie gras au torchon, he would serve a thick slice, nearly as thick as a hockey puck, saying, “You have to serve these expensive ingredients in abundance, so that people recognize what the fuss is all about, why it’s worth the cost. Too often chefs skimp on amounts and you can’t fully appreciate why these things are so good. It’s the same with caviar, and truffles. You almost have to overdo it.”
Back in the 1980s, having been a chef for a decade, Keller had never worked with foie gras, even though he had cooked under some of the best French chefs in the country. This is because there was no one producing foie gras in America at the time, and it couldn’t be imported raw (only in the form of pâté).* So it wasn’t until he was able to travel to France and cook in kitchens there that he learned how to work with foie gras. And that is where he learned the seasoning ratio that he still uses at his restaurants. Our ratio is identical except for the amount of salt—we use 2 percent rather than 1 percent.
Pink salt, sodium nitrite, keeps the color appealingly bright; in France they use something called sel rose or some form of potassium nitrate. Both are forms of naturally occurring nitrogen attached to a form of salt and should not be considered a chemical additive but rather a naturally occurring one (we get most of our nitrates, which are arguably beneficial to our health, from green vegetables, which pick it up from the soil); that said, it’s not required for safety as it is in many smoked and dry-cured meats, so it can be considered optional, if you wish.
The basic method for foie gras pâtés is the same. The foie gras is carefully cleaned of the network of veins that run through it. This is probably the most time-consuming part of the process. The more veins and blood that you can get out of the foie gras, the better. The cook should be careful and gentle, but not too concerned with tearing the foie gras apart as it will all eventually be compacted together in the end.
The next step is to soak it overnight in milk in order to leach any remaining blood from the foie gras. Some argue that this is an unnecessary step, but it certainly doesn’t hurt; do it if you have the time.
Next, season the foie gras. Because foie gras comes in varying weights, you must measure the seasonings relative to whatever weight you are working with. You’ll need a scale that measures in tenths of a gram.
The foie gras is marinated overnight, after which it can be cooked. Here, the torchon is rolled in cheesecloth and briefly poached in barely simmering water, so briefly that the inside really doesn’t even get hot, just warm enough to soften it. If you are cooking it in a terrine (see page 22), you pack it in a terrine and cook it in a water bath—again, just barely—to cooler than rare.
The foie gras is then compacted again—either by rerolling as with the torchon, or by pressing it in its terrine mold. Once completely chilled, it’s ready to be sliced. (Foie gras can remain in the fridge for up to 7 days, and it can be well wrapped and frozen for up to a month.) As a rule, pâté de foie gras should be sliced between ½ and ¾ inch/15 to 20 millimeters thick.
Pâté de foie gras is best served simply. All you really need is some toasted brioche and, ideally, something sweet and tart to offset the richness. This can be as simple as a brunoise of Granny Smith apple. At the French Laundry, among the many garnishes Keller used were pickled Bing cherries. Brian likes his Great Lakes tart cherries or mango or any pickled fruit. The pâté is very rich and very soft, so as long as you have something a little crunchy and something tart (and, if you wish, a neutral ingredient for color—some leaves of mâche, for instance), anything goes. And it’s often served with an expensive sweet wine, such as a Sauternes, and this is grand, but foie gras is also excellent with a crisp Champagne or other dry bubbly white wine.
Foie Gras au Torchon
Because one often works with differing sizes and amounts of foie gras, a general seasoning ratio is essential. With the ratio, you can work with any amount of foie gras you happen to have on hand.
FOR EVERY 100 GRAMS OF FOIE GRAS:
2 grams kosher salt (2%)
0.1 grams finely ground white or black pepper (0.1%)
0.2 grams sugar (0.2%)
0.25 grams pink curing salt (0.25%)
1 gram brandy or Sauternes, optional (1%)
Day One
1. Pull apart the foie gras lobes and remove as many veins as possible. Remove any sinew or membranes from the outside of the foie. If there are any bruised parts, cut them away and discard. Working from the bottom of the lobes, butterfly them and locate the primary vein in the center of each. Slice through the lobe to the vein, following its path and pulling the foie apart to see the vein clearly. (Don’t worry if you mangle the foie—better to get the veins out.)
2 Weigh the foie gras and record the weight (whole foie gras typically weigh a little more than a pound, or around 500 grams).
3. Put the foie gras in a baking dish and cover with milk. (This, we believe, helps leach out some of the blood exposed by the cleaning; if you wish to omit this step, that’s up to you.) Press plastic wrap down onto the surface of the liquid. Refrigerate overnight or for up to 2 days.
Day Two
1. Drain and rinse the foie gras (discard the milk); pat dry. Calculate the amounts of seasonings by weight, and measure them out. To do this, multiply the percentage of each by the weight of the foie gras. (For example: If the foie gras weighs 800 grams: 800 × 0.02 = 16 grams kosher salt; 800 × 0.001 = 0.8 grams pepper; 800 × 0.002 = 1.6 grams sugar; 800 × 0.0025 = 2 grams pink salt; 800 × 0.01 = 8 grams brandy.)
2. Mix the seasonings well and sprinkle evenly over the foie gras. Press the foie into a container in an even layer ¾ to 1 inch/2 to 2.5 centimeters thick. Sprinkle it with the alcohol, if using, massaging the seasonings over the foie gras. Press a piece of plastic directly against the foie gras so it is in contact with as little air as possible. Refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
Day Three
1. Remove the foie from the container and let it rest for an hour or two at room temperature to make it easier to work with. Place it on a piece of parchment paper (best) or plastic wrap (will suffice) in the form of a loaf about 6 by 3 inches/15 by 8 centimeters. Roll the foie into a log, twisting and squeezing the ends of the parchment paper or plastic to help compact it.
2. Unwrap the foie, discard the paper or plastic, and transfer the log to a piece of cheesecloth about 1 by 2 feet/30 by 60 centimeters. Place the foie on the short end of the cheesecloth. Begin to roll it to force the foie into a compact log again.
3. Using butcher’s twine, loop a length of string around your index finger. With the same hand, hold one end of the cheesecloth tightly and wind the string around the end of the foie. Continue wrapping the string about ¼ inch/6 millimeters into the foie gras; by winding the string around the end, you will compress the foie gras into an increasingly tight roll. When the foie is as compressed as possible, tie it off. Repeat the procedure on the other end. Tie a few ties along its girth for extra support.
4. Fill a wide pot with enough water (or, if you have it, veal or chicken stock) to submerge the foie gras; bring it to a simmer. Prepare an ice bath. Place the torchon in the gently simmering liquid for 90 seconds. Immediately transfer the torchon to the ice bath to cool for 5 to 10 minutes.
5. The foie will be loose in the cloth. Make it compact again by compressing it in a second cloth (leaving the first one on). Roll it as tightly as possible. Twist and tie the ends of the towel with a string and hang the torchon from a shelf in the refrigerator overnight.
Day Four
Unwrap the foie gras, slice, and serve—or, for an especially elegant appearance worthy of, say, the French Laundry, slice, cut with a ring mold to remove ragged edges, and serve with an appropriate garnish as noted above.
YIELD: 2 OUNCES/60 GRAMS PER SERVING
VARIATION:
Salt-Cured Foie Gras au Torchon
Brian and I have a great affection for Thomas Keller, not only as a chef but as a person. His method of poaching the torchon for 90 seconds softens the exterior but does not cook the center, allowing him to compact the foie gras for a perfect appearance. Brian loves this method but he also loves to salt-cure the foie gras, which eliminates the risk of overcooking and thus is pretty much foolproof.
Follow the method for the Foie Gras au Torchon through the wrapping of the foie gras in cheesecloth. But instead of poaching the foie gras, fill a dish with kosher salt. Place the foie gras on the salt and cover it completely with more salt. Refrigerate for 3 days. Remove the foie gras from the salt. Remove the cheesecloth, slice, and serve.
Foie Gras en Terrine with Sauternes
This is a classic preparation and uses roughly two whole foie gras. Use this recipe if you are serving 15 to 20 people at a celebratory dinner. (If you want to prepare less foie gras, see the following recipe, which uses smaller molds.)
This is the same pâté as in the Foie Gras au Torchon (page 119). The cooking method is different; here we use a water bath, so the foie gras is ever so slightly more cooked. It is weighted, too, so that it is compressed rather than being rolled, and we add a little more salt. But the taste and texture should be more or less the same. See the torchon notes about serving and garnish (page 118).
3 pounds/1350 grams grade A foie gras
2 cups/480 milliliters milk, as needed
3 tablespoons/45 grams kosher salt
1 tablespoon ground white pepper
1 tablespoon sugar
½ teaspoon pink curing salt, optional (but recommended for color)
1½ cups/360 milliliters Sauternes
¾ cup/180 milliliters brandy
1. Pull apart the foie gras lobes and remove as many veins as possible. Remove any sinew or membranes from the outside of the foie. If there are any bruised parts, cut them away and discard. Working from the bottom of the lobes, butterfly them and locate the primary vein in the center of each. Slice through the lobe to the vein, following its path and pulling the foie apart to see the vein clearly. (Don’t worry if you mangle the foie—better to get the veins out.)
2. Put the foie gras in a baking dish and cover with milk. (This, we believe, helps leach out some of the blood exposed by the cleaning; if you wish to omit this step, that’s up to you.) Press plastic wrap down onto the surface of the liquid. Refrigerate overnight or for up to 2 days. Drain and rinse the foie gras (discard the milk); pat dry and put the foie gras in a zip-top plastic bag.
3. Mix the seasonings well and sprinkle over the foie gras. Pour the alcohol over the foie and massage the marinade over the foie gras. Seal and refrigerate the foie gras for 12 to 24 hours.
4. Allow the foie gras to come to room temperature for at least 2 hours or up to 6 hours.
5. Prepare a water bath in a 300°F/150°C oven (see page 30).
6. Line a 1½-quart/1.5-liter terrine mold with plastic wrap. Press the foie gras into the mold tightly, ensuring there are no air gaps. Fold the plastic wrap over the top.
7. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and cook in the water bath to an internal temperature of 118°F/48°C, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the terrine from the water bath and drain off the excess rendered fat (reserve it to sauté diced brioche for elegant croutons, for instance). When it’s cool enough to handle, weight the terrine (see page 30) and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Unmold, slice, and serve (see page 30).
YIELD: 15 TO 20 APPETIZER PORTIONS
FOIE GRAS EN TERRINE WITH SAUTERNES (page 121), SPRINKLED WITH SEA SALT AND SERVED WITH DRIED TART CHERRY MARMALADE (page 231)
Foie Gras en Terrine in Smaller Molds
Say you don’t want to serve 3 pounds of foie gras. Say you have only half a foie gras. Say you are a chef and you have 12 ounces/360 grams of ends left after cutting foie gras to be sautéed. Or say you have only a 6-by-3-inch/15-by-8-centimeter terrine mold, or several smaller molds that might serve one, two, or four people. Or say that you are an ambitious home cook and want to splurge on a foie gras for you and your gourmand friends; you want to sauté some of the foie gras to serve hot and then serve the rest of it as a pâté de foie gras.
That’s when the seasoning ratio comes in handy. To gauge the amount of foie gras you’ll need to fill a given terrine mold, use water: We’ve found that if you have a terrine mold that holds 10 ounces/280 grams of water, you will need 10 ounces/280 grams of foie gras to fill it.
Follow the seasoning ratio used for the Foie Gras au Torchon (page 119), and the general method for the Foie Gras en Terrine (page 121), with whatever size mold you would like to use. (If you don’t have the right size molds for the amount of foie gras you need to cook, you can make small torchons. In this case, follow the torchon recipe and technique, page 119.)
If the scraps of foie gras you want to use don’t hold together or are not sufficiently elegant, after the pâté has been cooked and cooled, you can press it through a tamis and pipe it into individual ramekins.
FOR EVERY 100 GRAMS FOIE GRAS:
2 grams kosher salt (2%)
0.1 grams finely ground white or black pepper (0.1%)
0.2 grams sugar (0.2%)
0.25 grams pink curing salt (0.25%)
1 gram brandy or Sauternes, optional (1%)
1. If using a whole foie gras, pull apart the lobes and remove as many veins as possible. Remove any sinew or membranes from the outside of the foie. If there are any bruised parts, cut them away and discard. Working from the bottom of the lobes, butterfly them and locate the primary vein in the center of each. Slice through the lobe to the vein, following its path and pulling the foie apart to see the vein clearly. (Don’t worry if you mangle the foie—better to get the veins out.)
2. Put your terrine mold on a scale. Hit the tare, or zero, button. Fill the mold with water. Record the weight of the water. Repeat, as necessary, if you are using multiple small molds.
3. Weigh out the same amount of cleaned foie gras.
4. Put the foie gras in a baking dish and cover with milk. (This, we believe, helps leach out some of the blood exposed by the cleaning; if you wish to omit this step, that’s up to you.) Press plastic wrap down onto the surface of the liquid. Refrigerate overnight or for up to 2 days. Drain and rinse the foie gras (discard the milk); pat dry.
5. Calculate the amounts of seasonings by weight, and measure them out. Mix the seasonings well and sprinkle evenly over the foie gras. Calculate and weigh out the alcohol, if using, and sprinkle it over the foie, massaging the seasonings over the foie gras. Press a piece of plastic wrap directly against the foie gras so it is in contact with as little air as possible. Refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
6. Allow the foie gras to come to room temperature for at least 2 hours or up to 6 hours.
7. Prepare a water bath in a 300°F/150°C oven (see page 29).
8. Line your terrine mold(s) with plastic wrap. Press the foie gras into each mold tightly, ensuring there are no air gaps. Fold the plastic wrap over the top.
9. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and cook in the water bath to an internal temperature of 115°F/46°C, 20 to 30 minutes, depending on the size of your mold(s). Remove the terrine from the water bath and drain off the excess rendered fat (reserve it to sauté diced brioche for elegant croutons, for instance). When it’s cool enough to handle, weight the terrine (see page 30) and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Unmold, slice, and serve (see page 30).
YIELD: 2 OUNCES/60 GRAMS PER SERVING
FOIE GRAS MOUSSE
Foie Gras Mousse
When Brian hosted a gang of certified master chefs at the school where he teaches charcuterie, Schoolcraft College in Livonia, Michigan, outside Detroit, he served them this mousse. The visiting chefs, no strangers to foie gras, were goggle-eyed.
This method takes advantage of the great flavor of seared foie gras, the browned exterior, and the more gently cooked interior. It adds the aromatic sweetness of cooked garlic and shallot and the addition of butter—yes, butter!—to the finished puree. You don’t make experienced chefs goggle-eyed by holding back, do you?
This is so good that Brian recommends serving it simply with toasted brioche points (and perhaps a perfect, crisp Champagne or blanc de blancs).
1½ pounds/680 grams grade B foie gras
1 quart/1 liter whole milk
5 tablespoons/75 grams kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
¼ cup/60 milliliters Sauternes
¼ cup/60 milliliters brandy
¾ cup/170 grams unsalted butter
¼ cup minced shallot
3 tablespoons minced garlic
1 cup/240 milliliters heavy cream
Day One
1. Pull apart the foie gras lobes and remove as many veins as possible. Remove any sinew or membranes from the outside of the foie. If there are any bruised parts, cut them away and discard. Working from the bottom of the lobes, butterfly them and locate the primary vein in the center of each. Slice through the lobe to the vein, following its path and pulling the foie apart to see the vein clearly. (Don’t worry if you mangle the foie—better to get the veins out.) Put the foie gras in a zip-top plastic bag.
2. Add the milk and 4 tablespoons/60 grams of the salt to the bag, press out the air, and seal it so that the milk and salt are in contact with the foie gras. Refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
Day Two
1. Drain and rinse the foie gras (discard the milk); pat dry. Allow the foie gras to come to room temperature for at least 2 hours or up to 6 hours.
2. Combine the remaining 1 tablespoon/15 grams kosher salt, the white pepper, and alcohol in a fresh zip-top plastic bag. Add the foie gras, press out the air, and seal it. Marinate in the refrigerator for 12 to 24 hours.
Day Three
1. Remove the liver from the bag and pat dry with paper towels. Cut it into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter dice. Return it to the bag, seal, and refrigerate.
2. Melt the butter in a sauté pan over medium-high heat. Sauté the shallot and garlic just until tender and without browning them. When they are tender and translucent, turn the heat to high and add the diced foie gras and cook, stirring continuously, until the foie gras dice are just cooked through, 3 to 4 minutes.
3. Transfer the contents of the pan to a plate and allow to cool to room temperature.
4. Puree the mixture in a food processor until smooth. Pass the puree through a fine-mesh sieve into a metal bowl set in an ice bath. Stir the puree constantly until it starts to thicken.
5. Whip the cream to soft peaks and gently fold it into the foie gras. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
6. Fill 6 small (½-cup/120-milliliter) ramekins or soufflé dishes with the foie gras mousse, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.
7. Remove the ramekins from the refrigerator 30 to 60 minutes before you intend to serve them.
YIELD: 24 APPETIZER PORTIONS
Duck and Foie Gras en Terrine
This is a basic duck terrine, like the master recipe (page 36), with the same enrichments and aromatics but different interior garnishes—including foie gras. Of course, some people will get a nice chunk of that foie gras, and some won’t. If you’re not lucky and don’t get a chunk of foie—well, that’s the way the pâté slices.
12 ounces/340 grams lean duck leg and thigh meat, cut into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter dice
10 ounces/280 grams pork back fat, cut into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter dice
5 ounces/140 grams slab bacon, cut into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter dice
2 teaspoons/10 grams kosher salt, plus more as needed
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 teaspoon All-Purpose Spice Mix for Meat Pâtés (page 33)
½ teaspoon pink curing salt, optional (but recommended)
12 ounces/340 grams foie gras, cut into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter dice
2 (4- to 5-ounce/110- to 140-gram) boneless, skinless duck breasts
1 tablespoon minced shallot
½ cup/120 milliliters ruby port
¼ cup/60 milliliters brandy
1 large egg
¾ cup/180 milliliters heavy cream
5 ounces/140 grams smoked beef tongue, cut into ¼-inch/6-millimeter dice
1. Prepare a water bath in a 300°F/150°C oven (see page 29).
2. In a bowl, toss the diced duck leg meat, back fat, and bacon with the kosher salt, pepper, pâté spice, and pink salt (if using). Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
3. In a dry sauté pan, sear the diced foie gras over high heat on all sides, leaving the centers raw. Transfer to a plate, cover, and refrigerate.
4. Season the duck breasts with salt. Return the pan to high heat. In the residual foie gras fat left in the pan, sear the duck breasts on all sides, leaving the centers raw. Transfer to a plate, cover, and refrigerate.
5. Drain the excess fat from the pan, reduce the heat to medium, and sauté the shallot until translucent but not browned. Deglaze the pan with the port and brandy, reduce the liquid to a syrup, then set the pan aside to cool.
6. Grind the chilled duck leg meat, back fat, and bacon through a ⅛-inch/3-millimeter die into a metal bowl set in an ice bath. Transfer the ground meat to a chilled food processor bowl, add the egg and cooled reduction, and puree until smooth. Return the mixture to the bowl, still in its ice bath, and slowly fold in the cream.
7. Do a quenelle test (see page 28) and adjust the seasoning if necessary, remembering that cooked food served cold requires extra attention.
8. Fold in the seared foie gras and smoked tongue.
9. Line a 1½-quart/1.5-liter terrine mold with plastic wrap. Fill the mold halfway with the pureed meat, making sure to press it well into the corners. Lay the duck breasts in a single layer, pressing them down into the puree, then cover with the remaining puree. Fold the plastic wrap over the top.
10. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and cook it in the water bath to an internal temperature of 135°F/57°C, 45 to 60 minutes. Remove the terrine from the water bath. When it’s cool enough to handle, weight the terrine (see page 30) and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Unmold, slice, and serve (see page 30).
YIELD: 15 APPETIZER PORTIONS
Mango and Foie Gras en Terrine
When Jean-Georges Vongerichten opened a restaurant in Thailand in 1980, he may have been the first western chef to pair foie gras with mango (apples, what he normally paired with foie gras, were hard to come by there—he had to improvise). By the mid-1990s, my friend Michael Symon, then chef of Lola in Cleveland’s Tremont district, gave me a taste of sautéed foie gras with mango, grinning about what an amazing pair the two were. Since then I’ve loved combining the tart, sweet tropical fruit with the rich, fatty duck liver. Brian developed this elegant terrine to celebrate the pairing. Mango is perfect, but tart apples would work well, too. The foie is quickly sautéed for flavor, the terrine is layered, then it cooks in a water bath to a below-rare temperature. You need little more than a drizzle of reduced balsamic vinegar or crema di balsamico to finish the dish.
1¼ pounds/600 grams grade B foie gras
1 teaspoon/5 grams kosher salt
¼ teaspoon ground white pepper
¼ cup/60 milliliters brandy
2 ripe mangos, pitted, peeled, and cut lengthwise into ¼-inch/6-millimeter slices
1. Separate the lobes of the foie gras and remove any exposed veins or fat. Dip a sharp, thin-bladed slicing knife in hot water and cut the liver lengthwise into 1-inch/2.5-centimeter slabs. At this point clean any remaining veins, fat, or blood spots, while keeping the slabs whole.
2. Put the foie gras in a baking dish or zip-top plastic bag. Season with the salt and pepper, sprinkle with the brandy, cover, and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours or overnight.
3. Prepare a water bath in a 300°F/150°C oven (see page 29).
4. In a sauté pan, sear both sides of the foie gras slabs over medium heat, making sure the centers are still raw. Transfer to a plate. In the same pan, cook the mango just to soften it, then transfer to another plate (try drizzling the leftover fat on popcorn).
5. Line a 2-cup/480-milliliter mold with plastic wrap. Layer the foie gras and mango alternately until the mold is full. Fold the plastic wrap over the top.
6. Cover with a lid or aluminum foil and cook in the water bath to an internal temperature of 118°F/48°C, 20 to 30 minutes. Remove the terrine from the water bath and drain some of the excess rendered fat. When it’s cool enough to handle, weight the terrine (see page 30) and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled. Unmold, slice, and serve (see page 30).
YIELD: 8 APPETIZER PORTIONS
* It wouldn’t be until the late 1970s or early 1980s that chef Jean-Louis Palladin, originally from Gascony in southwestern France, the country’s foie gras capital, figured out how to get fresh foie gras into his restaurant at the Watergate Hotel in Washington, DC. Palladin thus made it possible for all chefs to begin serving foie gras, and for companies such as Hudson Valley Foie Gras to begin producing it.