There’s a simple formula we use for figuring the cost/benefit of going out for a meal when you’re really hungry but when the wind is raw and whipsaw-cutting.
It goes like this: Multiply the wind chill by the number of steps you must take from the restaurant’s tundra-like parking lot to get to its front door, then divide that by the cost of the dish (without tax, unless you’re in Michigan, Wyoming, or Guam), then multiply by 4.6 the temperature of that dish (yes, in Fahrenheit, of course) when it arrives in front of you. Apply this easy equation to the cassoulet at Franco and you’ll see it comes out at an impressive 9.87, easily outscoring a Krispy Kreme, which, using the same formula, tracks at a mere 3.34. (Not to say the doughnut isn’t worthy, especially in more temperate times of the year.) Clearly, however, we can ascertain that Franco’s cassoulet says “winter food” like Ice Skating With the Stars says, “Please don’t let the TV remote’s batteries fail now.”
You should know that recipes for cassoulet are, not unlike the relatives headed to your house for the holidays this year, varied and arguable. Those coming from Toulouse (the cassoulets, we’re talking about now, not your relatives; please keep up) must include goose fat. From Carcassonne, mutton. Franco’s version is fairly close to the classic Castelnaudary style, which many cassoulet-cravers regard as something of a standard, relying on the glistening joy of succulence that is duck confit as an essential component.
Take a look at the cassoulet at Franco. See those breadcrumbs on top? Brown and crispy. A sure sign that the cassoulet’s taken the scenic route to perfection, slowly cooked until just before serving, when the crumbs go on top for a crusty, toasty skin that comes during those final moments in the oven. Note too, that Franco uses a wide-mouthed bowl for its cassoulet. That makes for more surface area; more space for that beautiful crust to form and caramelize. Spoon into the crust and the fragrance wafting up is spectacular. Bay, onions, the smoky, meaty bite of the sausage, and that lovely duck that smells like the inside of a banker’s wallet—this is what makes winter worthwhile. Cassoulet is the culinary cashmere coat of this brutal season.
It’s easy to get caught up in the luxurious richness of a confit. The duck is luscious, the meat supple and soft, flaking off the bone in savory chunks. And you can focus on the meat, a spicy, snappy, house-made pork sausage, sweet and juicy. The savvy Serious Eater, though, knows a cassoulet is judged by the beans. They’ve absorbed all the flavors of the fats and meats and seasonings, cooked until they’re soft, but with enough texture still to have a satisfying feel between your teeth. They spoon up, shimmering with a glossy, thickened broth, hot and flavorful to the very last ones you’ll scrape from the bottom of the bowl. Argue about what properly goes into a cassoulet all night. But there’s no question: without those wonderful beans, there is no cassoulet.
We know what you’re thinking. A first-class cassoulet is at hand, yet perusing Franco’s wine list and nary an obvious Languedoc to be seen. Cassoulet, and no wine with a terroir to match the region of France that gave it to us? Don’t stress. Life will go on; it’s just your Seasonal Affective Disorder kicking in. Ignore it. Take a second look at the list and you’ll see a bottle of Domaine La Garrigue Vacqueyras, a blend of Grenache and Syrah, with a fistful of Mourvedre that makes this wine interesting. It’s from the southern Rhone neighborhood, Garrigue referring to both the low, scrub-covered hillsides of the region and to a low bush with an herby, Provencal taste you’ll detect on your palate.
Have the waiter open this wine as quickly as possible, as soon as you sit down. The more air it gets, the more it opens up. It's full-bodied, with a pleasant bite of leather, the Syrah providing a long finish that stands up beautifully to the cassoulet. Go out in the garden this month and turn over a spade there. Squat and smell the dirt. That chilly, earthy perfume? That’s what this wine tastes like. Match it with the cassoulet from Franco and you see why a trip here rates so high on our winter dining scale.
(Photo courtesy of Katherine Bish)
Franco
1535 S. Eighth
314-436-2500
Lunch Mon-Fri, dinner Mon-Sat.
