As you step over the threshold of farmyard, complete with chorteling pigs, lamas, and all kinds of fowl, and into the dining room, some adjustment is needed to the psyche. Here you are in Frederic and Eva's home, at their table, looking through to their family kitchen, here you are part of the furniture.
It took some time to settle in, there are no staff to fuss over you, to pour the water, or to offer an aperitif, you don't even know what is on the menu. The wine order is taken and Frederic disappears to the cellar, returning with your chosen drop. Comforting, buttery smells begin to make their way through the open door of the kitchen, Frederic is busy at the pans. Our entree arrives, two discs of lightly floured, seasoned and pan fried something. We run our knives across the meat, it is soft and pillowy, a little like chicken but not as firm by a long shot. We are in raptures and mop up the juices on our plates with crusty bread, baked by Frederic of course. He enquires if we liked our entree as he passes by our table on a nother trip to the cellar. "Oui, tres, tres, tres bon", we all agree. "Do you know what it is?" Frederic asks. "Sweetbreads" is my closest guess, due to the softness, but unlike any sweetbread I have ever eaten and not nearly as rich. "Lower" he says, "much lower". It begins to dawn on us all that we have not just eaten, but devoured, a plate of pan fried and beautifully seasoned testicles, sheep's testicles in fact. Boy did we laugh, AJ just couldn't believe it, and JR's eyes had definitely widened a little. Welcome to French farmhouse cooking, this is the real deal!
The next course was a little more common, boudin, sometimes known as blood sausage. Frederic's version was a lot more delicate and fine in texture than others I have tried, and was served with buttery, pan fried apples, the ideal foil for the rich flavours of the sausage.
Main course arrived at the table in an old copper serving dish. It contained slices of rosy pink pork fillet in a sauce made from morille mushrooms, quartered red onions, cream and stock. This is how meat should always be and so different to the usual animal flesh we eat. The flavour is deep, old, and truly of a farmhouse, it was real. The pig is called Grand Gascon and it is an old, old, breed with a history reaching back to Julius Caesar. Frederic is living his dream of raising his own meat from ancient breeds which are biologicaly certified, and serving them to appreciative guests in his home. The true greats of gastronomy are regular diners at his table, Trois-Gros, Rostang and Lameloise, just to name a few. Frederic shared with me his recipe of the dish they all adore.
The things I loved about La ferme de la Ruchotte were the honesty, the experience of eating typical food in a French farmhouse, the simplicity of the food and the deep flavours derived from the quality of the products, the way the meal was served in the middle of the table allowing us to help ourselves, Frederic's humility, and the old Limoges china we ate from.
And guess what? Frederic invited us back to see the farm in the morning! We are to be there for 10am to see the work begin.
