Sylvie Bigar shares her 'Cassoulet Confessions'

In 2008, veteran travel writer and part-time Bridgehampton resident Sylvie Bigar accepted an assignment to write about cassoulet, France’s ancestral bean and meat stew. She had no idea that it would be the start of a profound journey of self-discovery, prompting her to examine her family history, cultural identity, and personal values and aspirations.

“Cassoulet Confessions: Food, France, Family and the Stew That Saved My Soul” (Hardie Grant, $24.99) takes readers on Bigar’s trek through the French countryside near Carcassonne, where she absorbs the traditions and techniques of the dish from stern and exacting chef and founder of L’Academie Universelle du Cassoulet Eric Garcia. The experience prompts Bigar’s not always happy memories of her privileged but turbulent childhood in Switzerland, where she first developed a hunger for sumptuous cuisine.

In alternating chapters, Bigar presents parallel narratives, one an investigation of the meaning of an iconic recipe, and the other a history of her family’s fraught experience as assimilated Jews in 20th century Europe. The book itself is a complex, layered literary feast, delicious and shocking at the same time. Bigar recently spoke by phone about writing the book.

The book opens with you describing yourself as an Upper West Side “Mama who was dying to escape.” What you were escaping from when you left for France?

My kids were 3 and 5, I had recently switched gears in terms of work, going from the Classical music industry to becoming a writer. I was desperate to be creative. To go beyond the playground. I was really open to the world and excited about writing about what I would see, about fascinating people, their customs, their way of life.

When in the process did you come to understand this dish as the key to understanding your past and your identity?

It was actually pretty far along. I came back and wrote the cassoulet story I’d been assigned to do. Then I wrote about the beans. Then somebody reached out to me for a story about the different cassoles, the different shapes the pots needed to have. My friends were making fun of me, “the cassoulet queen.” “Are you ever going to write about anything else?” It took a few years to realize, no it’s not an article, or even two different long-form articles, it’s a book. And then it took a long time to convince a publisher that these two things could go together.

Chef Garcia is such a great character. And your description of the ritual presentation of the dish is so vivid. Why do you think it’s important to preserve ancestral foods?

It’s crucial because it’s where we come from. The traditions and the ingredients; if we eradicate that, what are we going to be left with to eat? Molecular cuisine? We’ve seen that come and go. We are already back to traditional ways. The great thing about our era, we’re also looking at other cultures, not only our own. Chef Eric did very well in creating this academy. He’s a historian and a philosopher. The region has also rallied around this dish in a very smart way. Every traveler to Occitanie needs to have a cassoulet and I think that is a good thing.

A stew made with pig trotter, ham hock, and pork belly is a surprising vehicle for discovering your Ashkenazi heritage. Why did this particular dish attract you initially and what role does cassoulet play in your life today?

I didn’t know what it was about this dish that spoke to me. All I knew was that I just couldn’t shake it. I think of it today as a long-lost cousin. I have moved on. I’m working on a historical novel based on a family member who actually was in “Cassoulet Confessions.” Last night I went to a restaurant and they had cassoulet on the menu. It was like, “Oh, old friend, I see you on the menu.” But I didn’t order it.

What advice would you give to home cooks about recreating this dish without stress?

This is why I devised a “Gateway Cassoulet” recipe, with the intention of whetting readers’ appetite for the real thing. That recipe is not stressful. My advice is to try and find the best possible ingredients, including fresh herbs, which a lot of people forget. What you taste in Europe is that grassy flavor that comes from very fresh vegetables, very fresh herbs.

What is it about long-cooking stews like cassoulet and cholent (which you describe as an Ashkenazi relative of cassoulet) that makes them so memorable?

There’s something eminently sensual in a stew that’s been cooking slowly at low flame. It smells divine but it also allows the meats, the vegetables and the legumes to melt together and often create a feeling of comfort and calm. Then there’s the conviviality that emanates from the one-pot dish the cook places at the center of the table. And they’re delicious!

You wrote much of this book at your home in Bridgehampton. Are there any ingredients or dishes that you and your family have come to associate with the East End?

In Bridgehampton, I worked with Florence Fabricant as a recipe tester. My kids were there. Some of the things we tested they never forgot. We made pasta from scratch, which for kids is an ideal game, a sensory overload. And then there are the memories of some of the farmers I love. The Green Thumb in Water Mill, they have some of the best herbs. I bought some garlic chives on Sunday and made an omelet aux fines herbes and it was exploding with flavor. And then there’s the cheese from Art Ludlow at Mecox Bay Dairy. His cows are munching on the grass right there kind of in my backyard.