an ode to foie

Foie gras has yet to be banned in California.  That means as of today it's not.  And it also means chefs are preparing more dishes with it to make a statement.  Many chefs are willing to stand up for what they believe.  And so are the people supporting them. 

Yesterday I woke up to a facebook post by my favorite ice cream shop about their fresh batch of foie gras ice cream sandwiches.  I had a busy day and by the time I got around to thinking about going, a new post about chocolate covered ice cream pies came out, leading me to think they had ran out.  When I called the phone rang and rang and no-one answered but that only made me think they were swamped by foie-hungry customers.  I made a mad dash to the store, all along thinking most likely I could come home empty handed.  The two girls in line in front of me took their time tasting practically every flavor before buying one scoop to share.  I was trying to be patient so I kept on a smile but could tell my weight was shifting from leg to leg which meant the guy behind the counter could see my shoulders shift.  Smile, I told myself.  Worse comes to worse just buy a pint of another favorite flavor, like chocolate sea salt.  But that wasn't consoling enough.  No other flavor would have the same meaning.

Before he had finished serving the two girls, the guy nods at me with a "How are you doing?" comment.  Perhaps it was his way of saying that he's been watching my shoulder shifting and I should be more patient.  I smiled again and said, "Do you have any of those sandwiches you posted on FB about?"  I had to be careful what I say for several reasons.  Fearing the girls could overhear me and buy the last ice cream sandwich before I could get to it would make me feel stupid to let them in on the secret.  Saying the word foie gras could raise many ears.  I felt safe about the people behind me.  After all, it was my turn after the girls would leave and I had first dibs in whatever I could buy.  But those words that bring so much instant pleasure to my mind are to be used carefully in public these days.

When I hear the word foie gras there are so many memories imprinted in my taste buds that come up.  There's the foie gras soufflés I eat in Paris every time, melting in my mouth.  Then I think of the salade gourmandise with a huge piece of foie gras on top of the haricots verts.  How about the Tournedos Rossini we made a few years ago with the perfectly seared filet mignon placed on top of a grilled buttery brioche, topped with truffles, foie gras, and bordelaise sauce?  Many trips to Paris farmers markets and even stops in Pays Landais at a corner butcher store to pick up jars of the delectable creamy mad tasting liver, cross my mind as I go through my memories.  Yes, the rich creamy delicate flavor of pure delicious goose liver, drives me mad. The one preparation that stands out the most is the perfectly seared piece served at a tapas bar in San Sebastian where they simply refer to foie gras as "foie".

But I'm not in Spain nor France right now and I've read about protests outside places in California serving foie gras. Last month a special multi-course foie gras dinner I attended was only announced to regular customers through Facebook and the door read "restaurant closed for private event tonight."   So I say the words "those sandwiches" as a code between me and the guy at the ice cream shop to let him know that I am in the know about the proper protocol.  His busy face changed to one with a mischievous wide grin of kinship and he matched my smile, "Yes, we do."  Finally,  I could truly be patient.  The anxiety of not knowing whether I would return home empty handed was over.  When the girls were done he asked how many I wanted and his face quickly shifted to a frown when I said "Six."  Oh no, I thought!  I was too greedy.  I should have only asked for two.  He's thinking I should be fair to all the people calling in and asking him to put some aside for them which he can't.  I should just take what I need.  How do I tell him about my need to have as much foie gras ice cream sandwiches as possible?  Do I start by telling him about how my love affair with foie started one gras at a time?  Do I beg?  Do I demand?  Or do I just take what he gives me and learn to be content, although just like my lack of patience, I knew contentment was another virtue I lacked.

I should have been patient because the frown followed with "Let me check the freezer.  We might not have that many left."  He quickly came back with "I only have five" to which I said, "I'll take them please."  Phew!  One short of the six sandwiches I needed but I now held what I had been craving.  It was a bittersweet victory as I drove home all along feeling guilty that I deprived another person in my shoes from tasting any.  But it was more sweet that anything else when I took my first bite of the ice cream nestled in its gingery cookie.  I could taste all my previous memorable experiences in one bite.

Bravo to foie gras ice cream.  Hopefully this will not be the dernière fois that chefs and artisans make their best foie.