In South West France, cassoulet is more than king: it’s God Himself. That’s according to the celebrated belle epoque chef Prosper Montagné, any way — and almost a century after he said it, no one’s arguing. This humble bean stew is as much part of the cultural identity of the Occitanie region as rugby and red wine.
It’s nothing fancy — aslow-cooked dish of white beans and meat (three different types are apparently mandatory in ever y dish, according to the États Généraux de Gastronomie Française of 1966, a kind of Vatican Council for French food), flavoured with garlic and vast amounts of animal fat. It’s comfor t food extraordinaire, but cassoulet worship isn’t all peace and love. As chef André Daguin puts it, “cassoulet is not really a recipe, it’s a way to argue among neighbouring villages of Gascony”.
Feathers fly about what goes into the pot (traditionally a glazed earthenware bowl called a cassole, made specially for the purpose in the village of Issel, in Aude), how it should be cooked and, most importantly, who should
