Prior to my arrival in France, I knew about foie gras and how it is pronounced. I must’ve read the controversy somewhere how duck livers are made the duck’s biggest body organ (i.e. fattening it) to supply the demand for this French delicacy. I noticed in France, foie gras is always present in special celebrations (together with champagne). Other countries make foie gras, too, but this is certainly associated with the French.
The quality of foie gras mostly depends on the quality of the duck liver, everything else is secondary. You can eat it on top of a (good) bread but never press on it like a spread (or ruin it – so I’ve been warned!), cut a small portion and just let it sit atop. Eating it with fig jam is remarkable, still I prefer my foie gras with a spicy jam Yoann’s brother brought home from his trip to South Africa. I thought that was such a rich add-on, subtle sweet with a tinge of spice.
But wait, there’s more! A few months back, Yoann’s mom brought me to a wine fair nearby Peronnas, France. Right away, my eyesight was caught by this wonderful display of vivid colors to the left of the entrance. Obviously they weren’t wines, not candies either! They turned out to be fruit-covered foie gras. The producer, Monsieur Paul, gave us a taste of his foie gras assortment and the rest is my version of foie gras history. I’ve always liked it but only then had I become an endearing foie gras fan.
The taste? Foie gras has a full and fine creaminess that only a duck liver brings. A texture that is very reminiscent of creamy butter but one that does not leave a greasy feel in your tongue. You can say it’s sinfully divine.