Gentle readers, please sympathize with me, for I, like a man who’s been dining exclusively on centipedes, have the bitter taste of defeat in my mouth. That this humiliation and defeat arrived, to twist a metaphor, at the hands of nothing more sinister than a pig’s foot, has only served to exacerbate these feelings of embarrassment and self-loathing.

Those of you already somewhat familiar with our body of work here at We Are Never Full may know that we are always ready to face down even the hardiest gastronomic challenges, frequently with all-to scant regard for liver, waistline and coronary arteries. It’s a kind of culinary cockiness and machismo that, strangely enough, we find so odious in TV food tools like Guy Fieri. I sincerely hope that this foolish trend, which continued during our recent trip to Montreal, has no lasting repercussions on our health.

Having heard about the restaurant Au Pied de Cochon (literally, at the foot of the pig) and its joyful, some may say reckless, use of duck and pork fat (& offal) in the preparation of traditional French and Quebecois dishes, plus several unique heart-stopping creations, we figured that it sounded like the kind of place we should visit.

“…a green salad tossed in warm, duck-fat vinaigrette and topped with a fritter of trotter mush…”

The red sign near the entrance cautioning patrons to be careful on the greasy floor should have been taken as warning, as should the glazed and listless gazes of departing patrons. Heedless, we proceeded to order the sliced tongue and the crispy PDC salad as starters. The former, which was beef tongue, sat nicely in our comfort zone. Meltingly tender and served with a butter-finished veal stock sauce and garnished with sliced cornichons for a texturally-satisfying crunch. We were intrigued by the latter when the waiter explained that it was basically a green salad tossed in warm, duck-fat vinaigrette and topped with a fritter of trotter mush. Yes, that’s right – the nerves, cartilage and natural gelatin from the pig’s foot, mashed together and seasoned, then breaded and deep-fried. Not a salad for dieters, but amazing tasting, wonderful mouth-feel, with the prince of vinaigrettes.

That we had ordered mains after this was our first major mistake, and the second was that one of them happened to be the pied de cochon with foie gras. (The fact that the other was a large tranche of foie gras with a side of poutine (more on this in a later post) barely registered.) Few are the times in my life that I have had a plate of food put in front of me and I have suddenly felt weak, timid and overawed – even at the most trying times I usually soldier bravely on before leaving the table bloated and sweaty – but, on this occasion I was defeated the moment I was served.

“…like the governor of a provincial state thrust into the spotlight of CBS News … I was suddenly way out of my depth and performed pathetically, embarrassing myself in the process.”

Never before have I even seen a plate of food that large for one person, let alone been prompted to eat it. It was gigantic. The pigs foot was large – maybe a foot long - and deep-fried, though that of itself caused little consternation as it was mostly bone, and was topped with a 4oz slice of seared foie gras, again, excessive, but perhaps not fear-inducing exactly. What really intimidated me was that the trotter sat on an inch-deep bed of creamy mashed potatoes and between two foot-long trenches – for that’s what they were – of button mushrooms and spinach in a cream and butter sauce. I would estimate there were two 6oz boxes of button mushrooms plus a cup of cream on the plate, and the whole thing must have weighed about 5lbs and could have served six adults. What was I to do in the face of such magnitude?

You’re right, I could have plowed in and tried to eat it all, and then admitted defeat gracefully later on. I could also have harangued the waiter for not giving me any idea of what a fool I was making of myself, but frankly, my spirit was broken. You see, I’ve always managed to perform creditably at the table before, even if I have ultimately been overwhelmed, but, like the governor of a provincial state thrust into the spotlight of CBS News for the first time, I was suddenly way out of my depth and performed pathetically, embarrassing myself in the process.

As these photos attest, I was barely able to make a dent in it, and in truth, it was my wife who ate the lion’s share. I had been psyched out and failed to regain my composure. Some would say, with good reason, that it was a shameful waste of food, but I prefer to think of it as a lesson in humility.

Indeed, chatting with the maitre d’ later on over calvados (one of the few things that can cut through thick layers of duck fat) I learned that this was Martin Picard, the owner’s, dastardly plan for this dish, — that no-one who orders it leaves unscarred. Everyone is dominated by it and no-one gets anywhere near cleaning their plate. So confident are they at Au Pied de Cochon of their ability to manifest gluttony so vaingloriously that they number every deep-fried pig’s foot they serve. Mine was 5141. So from now on, like a retired GI with a talisman made of shrapnel, I shall wear that number with pride and humility, in place of a hospital bracelet during the bypass surgery I expect to now need.

Au Pied de Cochon
536 avenue Duluth Est
Montréal, QC H2L 1A9, Canada
(514) 281-1114

Check out some other posts you might enjoy:

• Thursday, It’s Gloria Day
• Quickest Meal to Make… Ever – Pasta con Tonno
• Authentic Tortilla Soup
• South African Hot Toddies

We literally just walked in after spending our Labor Day afternoon at the annual WIADP (West Indian American Day Parade) on Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn, but to describe what we just witnessed as simply a parade would be akin to saying that scotch bonnet peppers are sometimes a little spicy, i.e. an enormous underestimation. The parade is the largest in New York City with upwards of 2million people flocking to it annually.

It was an unbelievable assault on the senses - the sights (thousands upon thousands of dancing people all decorated with their national flags and some astonishing costumes), the sounds (hundreds of different sound systems all turned up to 11 and all competing with one another as they slowly rumbled by on floats, accompanied by the ever-present encouragements for the dancers from some very vocal MCs), the smells (a myriad stalls selling Caribbean favorites, some better known that others), and the atmosphere (it is about 90F here today and there were some enormous smokers pumping out clouds of jerk-scented smoke, as well as many other “personal” smokers pumping out clouds of the other kind of smoke Jamaica is famous for).

Of course, apart from soak up the atmosphere, we did our best to sample the wares from as many of the stalls as possible. Sadly, our eyes were bigger than our bellies, and we frequently had the unfortunate experience of having to walk past many a stall not physically being able to eat anymore. Let’s face it, Caribbean food is not exactly light at the best of times, and on a scorching summer day, goat curry with roti, fish cakes, bake and salt-fish, all smothered in fruity hot pepper sauce, and washed down with spicy ginger beer, then shaken up and down with booming soca and dance-hall, is a recipe for a lot of sweating and the need for shade and a sit-down. Intense. Seriously intense.

My only touchstone for a carnival like this, is, well, carnival – the Notting Hill Carnival in London to be precise. And, not to offend anyone involved with that fun, enormous, crazy and, occasionally, violent Caribbean festival, the WIADP is a major step-up. The food, the sounds, the people, the culture, it’s all as much as you can take and more. It’s as close to being in a foreign country as I’ve ever experienced in America (note that, for me, America is a foreign country). It’s such a radical departure from what the area around the Brooklyn Art Museum usually looks like and where you usually see white couples jogging along behind three-wheel baby-chariots, that at first it takes you aback. Then, and suddenly, it just sucks you in, but, just as quickly, it spits you out again. It’s a lot to take and we had to retire for some shade and cold water, but we’ll be back. You should check it out next year, for once a year is enough to last you a while. That said, we’ll definitely be exploring more of our local Caribbean restaurants and trying to recreate some of their dishes and the ones we ate today now we’ve got a taste for it.

Just to get your excitement level up even more about salt (if you aren’t already on the edge of your seat panting), I’ll continue with my brief history lesson. We kind of take salt for granted. Unless it’s fancy like that fleur de sel or that Hawaian lava salt stuff, people kind of think, “Whateva… It’s just salt” and then throw it over their left shoulder as if it were nothing or get a giggle out of loosening the lid on a shaker at a diner and watch someone use it (heee heee, teee heeee heeee!) only to waste it as it falls all over the table and floor. But salt IS something. God damn it! If salt was a person, she’d be older than God (salt’s the oldest known food additive), or at least Jesus. Hell, she IS God (can you imagine cooking without it?). Did you know that at certain points in time and in certain places, salt was used as currency? Wars were supposedly waged in the name of salt. Hell, Northwich, Cheshire (United Kingdom) wouldn’t be the awesome, contemporary and trendy metropolis it is today if it weren’t for their salt mines – they even have a museum dedicated to it! ***Note: My husband wanted to let you all know that the Salt Museum was so stimulating to him that on a fun, weekend trip at age seven, he fell fast asleep on a pile of salt – ok, it was a bench, but whatever.****

One of salt’s main use back in the day was in preserving fish (remember, besides salt, you also seem to take ice and refrigeration for granted – are you feeling like shit yet?) and other foods. Ever eat bacalao/bacala? Yes, thanks to the days before fridges and freezers, the Portuguese and Spanish used a “wet” method to salt-preserve their fish on-board their boats while the French and English used the ‘dry’ method by drying their fish on racks onshore (www.saltinstitute.org). Maybe this is also why salt is mentioned in the Bible 30 times?

Which leads me to the point – baking a whole fish in salt seems natural to me now. When I decided to cook this after seeing Jose Andres do it recently, I couldn’t believe how delicious this cheap, easy and simple way of cooking a fish could be. Please, I beg you to give this a shot. I’ve read that you can cook chicken and squid as well as many other things in a salt crust. I recommend a whole fish mainly because you can fillet it and remove or not eat the skin. Yes, you remove most of the salt from the fish after it has been cooked, but there is still a very, very salty residue on the skin. Just eat the moist meat under the salty skin with just a squeeze of fresh lemon and a drizzle of really good olive oil. So rustic (see picture – I couldn’t really plate this in a pretty way), so “salt-of-the-earth” kind of a meal (pun kind of intended) and so freaking easy. Paired with some crunchy, spicy okra fritters and you’ve got a great and pretty healthy meal. This is also a great meal to have around Lent or Easter (meat free) – kind of seems a bit Biblical to me.

SALT CRUSTED WHOLE SNAPPER WITH OKRA FRITTERS AND LOUISIANA REMOULADE – Serves 2

For the Fish:

• 1 2-lb whole fish (we used snapper)
• 1/2 lemon sliced up
• 2 crushed garlic cloves
• 2 sprigs thyme
• 2 bay leaves (optional)
• 1 big box of kosher salt
• water

For the okra fritters:

• 2 cups sliced okra (thinly sliced)
• 1 cup chopped onions
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/4 cup cornmeal
• milk (enough to moisten batter if necessary)
• salt and pepper
• pinch of cayanne pepper
• pinch of garlic powder
• veggie oil for frying

For the Remoulade (this makes alot):

• 1 cup light mayo
• 1/2 cup dijon mustard (if you have creole mustard, even better)
• 1/2 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
• 1 tablespoon hot sauce
• 1 scallion, thinly sliced
• 1 stalk celery, thinly diced
• parsley, chopped
• juice of 1/4 lemon
• salt and pepper

What to do:

1. Prep your remoulade so it has some time to sit and the flavors can meld together. All you need to do is add every ingredient together and stir. Done.
2. Prep your okra fritters. Slice your okra and onions and saute for a few minutes to soften. Add to a bowl and allow to cool for a minute. Add your flour and cornmeal and season with some salt, pepper, cayenne and garlic powder. Stir all together. Beat your eggs with a fork and add to your veggies/flour/cornmeal mixture. Stir. If batter seems way too thick, add a bit of milk and stir. We kept our mixture pretty thick because I wanted a few thick, big fritters instead of a bunch of small ones. You want it thicker than pancake batter, but not as thick as bread dough! Reserve on side for a moment.
3. Preheat your oven to 450.
4. Now, let’s get your fish started. In a LARGE bowl, mix your salt with some water. We used about 2 pounds of salt and a cup or so of water. Lay about a half-inch to one-inch of salt in the bottom of your baking pan. Add two bay leaves (optional) for the fish to lay on.
5. Stuff the fish (where it has been gutted) and add some lemon wedges, some crushed garlic cloves and a few thyme sprigs. Try and close the ‘gap’ as much as possible – you don’t want to get too much salt in there. Lay your fish on the bed of salt and (now the fun part) pile the rest of your salt on top of the whole fish. You want it to be at least an inch or two thick.
6. Once you have your salt mound perfected, throw it in to your 450 degree oven for 25 minutes.
7. While fish is cooking, fry up your okra fritters. Put about 2 cups of vegetable oil in a pan and heat till it’s ready to fry. Using a large tablespoon, shape a fritter and cook in the oil – I pressed down on the fritter to make it more like a flat disk instead of a ball. Allow to cook about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes tops before flipping (depending on how hot your stove is). When finished, allow to drain on some paper towels and sprinkle with a bit of salt and a squeeze of lemon.
8. When your fish is ready, allow to sit for a few minutes and then break the salt crust with a sharp knife. Don’t cut into the fish, though! Throw away the bits of salt crust that come off and when you remove your fish, dust the extra salt off of it.
9. Filet your fish by slicing one side of the meat against the bone. Remove the bone and plate your filets. Squeeze some fresh lemon juice and drizzle some of your favorite extra virgin olive oil on top of the fish. Serve with some okra fritters that are topped with the remoulade. Dig in!

CHECK OUT SOME OF OUR OTHER LENT-APPROVED FISH RECIPES:

• BREAD-CRUSTED FISH WITH A LEMON BUTTER SAUCE
• WHOLE, FRIED SNAPPER WITH A PARSLEY GARLIC SAUCE
• ANISE-FLAVORED SALMON IN PARCHMENT POUCH
• LIVORNESE FISH STEW