Lentil Cassoulet

We inaugurate the new year with another Julia-Child-inspired recipe, alternately known as Lentilles Garnies or Lentilles en Cassoulet, or Gratin of Lentils with Meat. Given my day job, it borders on heretical for me to say that the English version of the name is the least poetic, but there it is. Let's compromise and call it "Lentil Cassoulet." 

This one is taken from what I consider to be JC’s best book—From Julia Child’s Kitchen, first published in 1975 and now, it seems, out of print. It’s a shame, because it’s well worth seeking out—it not only provides the recipes from the color episodes of The French Chef (1969 – 1973), but it also contains some of the best writing that JC ever did. It’s a much more personal book than the textbook-like Mastering, and is written in a more familiar, informal voice than that work. Even if we put the recipes aside (which are excellent), the book is an interesting read.

Yes, I read cookbooks “for the articles.” Why are you looking at me like that?

This is one of my favorite winter dishes. Where I live, the temperature is not expected to go above freezing this week, and this sort of fare is welcome when the high temperature is 21 F. It’s a pretty straightforward preparation. You cook some lentils, combine them with some meat—sausages in my case, but all kinds of things are possible here—and bake them in the oven. But damn it’s good on a cold night. I suspect, like many dishes, it was originally devised to use up leftovers; in this case, probably that of a feast or Sunday roast, since it calls for cooked meat(s) and gravy. I suspect that’s the raison d’être of the original cassoulet as well, although they’ll come after you with pitchforks and torches in Castelaudnary, Carcassone and Toulouse if you say so out loud.

I mentioned that this recipe is JC-inspired, because when I went to look it up for this post, I realized that I had strayed considerably from JC’s original (which, as usual, is at the end of the post) over the years. My changes, unsurprisingly, lean toward simplifying things to bring the process more in line with my innate laziness. It also brings us back to our old friend the lentil, which, as regular readers know, I have been cooking incorrectly since 1989.

I am once again using French lentils (aka Puy lentils), because I like them and because they hold their shape better than other varieties. However, when I first began making this eons ago, all I had access to were regular brown lentils, and they work just fine. In fact, that’s the type JC specifies. I start with 1 ½ cups lentils, 2 tsp of salt and 4 ½ cups of water. This is not a recipe that demands precise measurements, though, so if you want to cut this recipe in half, or double it, it’s pretty forgiving.

Combine them in a saucepan, bring to a boil, and simmer until just tender, 18-20 minutes. And preheat your oven to 400 F.

Meanwhile, put an oven-safe skillet or pan over moderate heat with a little olive oil.

Take some sausages—about a pound or so, but again, exact measurements are not crucial—and prick them a few times with a fork, as you would a potato you were going to bake. This is supposed to keep the sausages from bursting while they cook. I have no idea if this is really necessary or not, but I’ve always done it, so I’m doing it now. I’m using fresh bratwurst here, because I like it, it’s cheap, and it’s easy to find. But as JC notes, you could use Italian sausages, or breakfast sausages, or pork shoulder, or lamb shoulder, or chorizo, or kielbasa, or ham, or chicken thighs, or turkey legs (I’d avoid white meat, as it would probably dry out), or any combination thereof. And yes, turkey and chicken sausages should work, if you’re careful not to overcook them. You could also use sautéed mushrooms, eggplant, or cooked winter squash, or root vegetables, or…you get the idea, right? I can stop now? Cool.

Brown the sausages quickly on both sides, and then put them into the oven for about 15 minutes. If you think of it, turn them over about halfway through. Note that if you’re using something that’s already cooked, such as leftover roast meat, or a cured meat like kielbasa or ham, you don’t have to bake it—just brown it in the pan and set it aside.

While the lentils are simmering and the sausages are roasting, mince a member of the allium family. I’m using a shallot here, but green onion or regular onion will work. If you’re a Type-A personality, you want roughly ½ cup of minced shallot/onion.

Pull the sausages out of the oven, and set them on a plate to cool enough for you to handle them.

If you started them at the same time as the sausages, the lentils should be done right about now; taste a few to be sure. Drain them in a colander.

That pan we cooked the sausages in? Sauté about two-thirds of your shallots in there for a few minutes, until they soften and go translucent (there is usually enough fat left in the pan for this, but if not, add some olive oil). Add a couple of tablespoons of flour, and stir that for a minute or two to cook it lightly.

Now we add some alcohol. JC, as is her wont, uses wine, which works well—red or white. However, I had some hard cider in house, so I used that. It also works well. Pour in ¼ cup, give or take, and stir it in with the flour, preferably with a wooden spoon. Scrape up any caramelized brown bits from the bottom of the pan as you stir. This is called deglazing in the trade.

Now whisk in some stock—I didn’t measure this, but I’m guessing I added about 1 ½ cups. It can be beef stock, chicken stock, whatever you have. It need not be homemade. Indeed, in my house, it never is. Bring it to a boil so that it thickens lightly. In other words, make gravy.

Now stir in the drained lentils, so they are coated with the sauce, as well as some chopped parsley, or other herbs, if you wish.

  

Cut the sausages into serving pieces. I usually slice them, but if you want to just quarter them, or cut them into chunks, that works, too. Hell, leave ‘em whole if you want. No skin off my ass.

Btw, if you cut into your sausages and find that they’re a little pink inside, no worries: they will be fully cooked by the time we’re done.

Add the sausages to the sauced lentils. Sprinkle the remaining shallots on top.

Top the whole thing with bread crumbs. I’m using panko bread crumbs, but whatever you have will do. If you’re the helpful hint sort, please note that bread crumbs, whether store-bought or freshly made, will keep for months in the freezer.

Speaking of helpful hints, if you’re really Type-A, you could prepare this entire casserole to this point, cool it, and put it in the fridge (covered) for a day or two, and cook it later. But we’re not doing that today, so put this beastie in the oven and bake it for 20-25 minutes.

Don’t forget to put away the cider.

If you have assembled the casserole ahead of time and are baking it straight from the fridge, it will take longer—I’d go 45 minutes or so, at 375.

When it’s done, the crumbs should have browned, and the sauce will be bubbling. Serve it forth with a green salad. It feeds 6 pretty easily, but it also reheats nicely should you have leftovers. Bon Appetìt, y’all. 

Editing Note: The transcript below has the same issue that my earlier recipe from Mastering had: JC refers to "the previous recipe" in her instructions. I've modified the text accordingly. 

From Julia Child, From Julia Child's Kitchen.

Lentilles garnies; lentilles en cassoulet

For 6 people

2 cups washed lentils

6 cups water

2 ½ to 3 lbs. meat cut into serving chunks: homemade or Italian or Polish sausages and/or pork shoulder butt, ham, country spareribs, or lamb shoulder

About 2/3 cup mirepoix (½ cup each finely diced carrot, onion, and celery cooked until tender in 3 Tb butter or oil), in a medium saucepan

3 Tb flour

½ cup red or white wine, or dry white French Vermouth

1 ½ cups ham stock, meat stock, or canned beef bouillon

1 bay leaf

¼ tsp thyme or oregano

Salt and pepper

3 Tb minced shallots or scallions

3 Tb minced parsley

¼ cup fresh white bread crumbs

Preliminaries. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Cook the lentils very slowly in water as described in the previous recipe, but only for about 30 minutes, until barely tender [Combine lentils in water just below the simmer, adding a little boiling water if necessary, until lentils are as tender as you want them to be; test by eating a few—GM]. Drain. Meanwhile, dry the chunks of meat in paper towels, spread in a roasting pan, and brown in the upper middle level of preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes, turning the meat and basting occasionally with accumulated fat and juices in the pan. Prepare the mirepoix also, and when done, blend in the flour, cook slowly, stirring, for 2 minutes, and remove from heat; beat in the wine, then the stock, and simmer 5 minutes, add the herbs to this sauce, and correct seasoning.

Assembling the casserole. Choose a baking dish such as a 9- by 12-inch oval 2 inches deep, and butter it lightly. Fold the lentils and sauce together, and spread in the baking dish. Arrange the browned meat on top, pushing the pieces into the lentils. Pour fat from roasting pan into a small bowl, and deglaze pan with a little wine or bouillon (pour in the liquid, set over heat, and scrape coagulated meat juices into liquid with a wooden spoon, boiling rapidly until liquid is syrupy; pour over the meat. Season meat lightly with salt and pepper; sprinkle the shallots or scallions, parsley and bread crumbs over all. Baste with 2 spoonfuls of far reserved from the roasting pan.

May be prepared a day in advance to this point; when cool, cover and refrigerate.

Baking and serving. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. About 40 minutes before serving, set in upper-middle level of oven, until sauce is thick and bubbling hot, and crumbs are nicely browned.

May be kept warm on an electric heating device, but do not let the casserole overcook, drying out the lentils and the meat.