Found an article in the Phila Inquirer............


Frozen foie gras?  By Craig LaBan  INQUIRER FOOD WRITER 

It might be very hard to think of foie gras along the lines of a
microwavable TV dinner. But gourmet guru Joel Assouline assures me: Just
thaw this one-pound brick of fattened duck liver terrine under running
water, then pop it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. And voila .
. . instant liver luxury! Actually, you need to let it cool in the
fridge for a day before serving. But still, microwavable foie gras?
What's next: Hungry Man Tournedos Rossini?
We put this terrine to the test - imported from the French company
Rougie, the world's largest producer of foie gras - and tasted it
against some other terrines, both fresh and canned, which until recently
was the most common form of foie gras in this country. But first, I
checked in with Ariane Daguin, co-owner of D'Artagnan, the New Jersey
foie gras and charcuterie producer and importer. Daguin is a native of
Gascony, the French region known for foie gras, where her family has
been in restaurants for five generations. She had yet to hear of the
frozen microwavable terrine, let alone taste it, but did not hesitate to
react with visceral disdain. "Is nothing sacred anymore?" she cried.
"This is incredible. . . . But what do [the French] care? They probably
think,'It's all butter to [Americans].' "Of course, D'Artagnan has
played a major role in fostering the fresh foie gras industry in America
over the last 15 years. And ducks are now being vigorously bloated from
Hudson Valley to Sonoma through a force-feeding process called "gavage"
that has its roots in ancient Egyptian culture. The industry is a
perennial target of animal-rights advocates, but purveyors like
D'Artagnan and Michel Ginor of Hudson Valley Foie Gras say that gavage
isn't cruel, that it only mimics the natural fattening ducks and geese
undergo before their seasonal migrations. Political correctness aside,
the growing availability of foie gras - literally, "fat liver" in French
- has been a culinary boon to creative chefs and diet-defying gourmands.
On the other hand, the proliferation of this once rare delicacy has also
had a dulling effect, as it is difficult to find an upscale restaurant
that doesn't serve fresh foie gras in one form or another. When expertly
handled, the taste and texture of foie gras can resonate with almost
haunting richness. Try Susanna Foo's Asian-flavored duck and foie gras
dumplings, or the whole lobe at Wilmington's Restaurant 821,
wood-roasted with Sauternes wine and fruit. Or, for something more
traditional, there is Alberto Vanoli's exquisite terrine at the
Ritz-Carlton's Pantheon (see recipe). Poached in Madeira broth and
cooled, a thick pink slice is then sparkled with sea salt and placed
next to drizzles of aged balsamic vinegar and silky sheets of
prosciutto. The democratization of foie gras, though, has resulted in
some crazier, more dubious incarnations. Barbecued foie gras. Foie gras
pizzas. Deep-fried foie gras. Foie gras cappuccino. "It's rich, of
course, but it's delicious," coos chef Philippe Chin, defending his
froth-topped liver soup. Indeed, there seems to be few boundaries foie
gras cannot cross. But still, Daguin can't reconcile the noble liver -
the legacy of ancient Egypt and the Roman Empire - zapped in the
microwave. "My father always told me that frozen foie gras is like soap.
It looks like soap. Smells like soap. Tastes like soap. The only thing
it doesn't do is bubble," Daguin says. Actually, when you poke holes in
the vacuum-sealed plastic around the frozen terrine, molten fat does
bubble out in the microwave. "You see! It even bubbles," Daguin says. "I
still have to taste this, but the more I think about it, the more I
think . . . this is bad." To which Assouline responds: "Welcome to the
21st century!" Assouline, who began jostling with D'Artagnan for fresh
foie gras sales a year and a half ago when the federal government
permitted raw foie gras to be imported from France, claims Daguin is
simply reacting to a competitive threat. Daguin speculated that Rougie's
new terrine - flash frozen and shipped raw - was created to circumvent a
100 percent tariff, known as the "banana tax," placed on numerous
European luxury products, including cooked foie gras. Assouline does not
dispute that this terrine benefits from the lack of tariff. It costs
$42.50 for more than a pound, compared to $38.50 for less than half that
quantity of precooked foie gras in a tin. But he says the frozen terrine
was developed, rather, for smaller bistros in France as a practical
low-volume product. Either way, I could not let this dispute go
untasted. Is liver cooked in the microwave legitimate? Several Inquirer
food section staffers gathered for a tasting that included the Rougie
duck terrine; a duck terrine and a goose terrine from D'Artagnan made
from never-frozen liver; as well as traditional tins of both duck and
goose. The results were almost unanimous. D'Artagnan's duck terrine, at
$63.75 for 8 ounces, was clearly superior, with the silkiest texture and
most refined sweet liver flavor. But the microwaved Rougie was
surprisingly good, too. It was not quite as finely prepared - we came
across stray veins, and the livers could have been better packed. But
for the value, twice as much for $20 less, this was a very respectable
terrine, fresh tasting and sweet, with a hint of natural spice. By
comparison, both were far preferable to the old-fashioned tins, which,
despite their expense, are typically overcooked and tinged with the
aftertaste of nitrate preservatives. Rougie's canned 7-ounce duck
terrine was pasty and without character. A canned slice of Rougie's
goose foie gras, at $46 for 2.6 ounces, was by far the loser of the lot,
with an acrid aftertaste of metal. On the other hand, perhaps the gamier
taste of goose liver - usually considered the gold standard - simply did
not appeal to our panel. D'Artagnan's 8-ounce terrine of never-frozen
goose foie gras was also a $95 disappointment, with a grayish color and
a giblet flavor that one taster likened to "chopped chicken liver." For
holiday entertaining, this is key information. While searing foie gras
has a certain creative cachet, it can be tricky for home chefs, not to
mention far less convenient for large parties than a classic slice of
terrine. I still find a timeless elegance and a purity of product in the
old-fashioned terrine, served with figs or chutney and lovely
late-harvest sweet wine. Vanoli's poached foie gras is one of the
easiest methods for preparing your own (raw duck foie gras costs $45 to
$58 for a whole 11/2-pound liver). Aside from the tricky task of
removing the web of veins from each lobe (see directions with
accompanying recipe) he finds the poaching technique easier to control
than baking in a terrine. Of course, it's not as easy as popping it in
the microwave, or simply opening a precooked package. But even in the
21st century, there can be satisfaction in taking the longer path to
gastronomic luxury.
Craig LaBan's e-mail address is claban@phillynews.com
Foie gras can be purchased at Caviar Assouline, 505 Vine St.,
Philadelphia, 215-627-3000; or through mail-order from D'Artagnan,
1-800-327-8246. 

A delicate process for a French delicacy: Here is Alberto Vanoli's
recipe for poaching foie gras. Cleaning and deveining directions, from
D'Artagnan's Glorious Game Cookbook (Little, Brown & Co., $35), follow.

Madeira-Poached Foie Gras Terrine

1 fresh duck foie gras (two lobes), about 11/4 pounds 
3/4 cup sea salt
4 cups1/4 warm water
1 quart milk
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon pepper 
1 teaspoon crushed coriander seeds
4 quarts water
2 cups Madeira wine

Bring the refrigerated foie gras to room temperature in a bowl of warm
water for about 2 hours, or until it is soft to the touch. Remove and
dry gently. Remove the veins carefully from each lobe. Dissolve salt in
warm water, then add milk. Soak foie gras for 6 hours, or as long as
overnight. Remove foie gras from milk mixture and dry with paper towels.
Season with salt, pepper and coriander. Wrap in one large sheet of
cheesecloth, rolling the foie gras into a tight cylinder, about 10
inches long and 2 inches in diameter. This should allow the cheesecloth
to wrap around the liver three or four times. Tie the two ends tightly
with twine. Also, coil a separate piece of twine around the cylinder as
if trussing a roast, to help maintain the shape. Using a thermometer,
heat water and Madeira to 160 degrees, which is less than a simmer. Do
not boil, or foie gras will melt. If temperature lowers, adjust the
flame accordingly. If temperature goes up, compensate by adding ice
cubes. Cook 14 minutes. Remove and put in an ice water bath for 5
minutes to stop cooking. Let rest in refrigerator one day. Unwrap, slice
and serve. Makes 10 servings.
Nutritional data per serving: Calories, 130; protein, 11 grams;
carbohydrates, 3 grams; fat, 3 grams; cholesterol, 292 milligrams;
sodium, 258 milligrams.

Cleaning and Deveining Foie Gras:  When working with raw foie gras,
first let it sit at room temperature for about 20 minutes before
separating it into lobes and removing the veins. Otherwise it can easily
crack into pieces. If the foie gras is to be used in a hot reparation,
deveining is unnecessary. To clean and devein, follow these steps:

 1. Place the smooth side of the foie gras down on a cutting board, with
the smaller lobe to your right. Separate the 2 lobes at A and B with
your hands (see diagram). If the surface membrane is beginning to show,
peel it off with your hands or a small knife. If the crooked piece
that's between the lobes comes off, so be it.

 2. From B, pull gently to take off as many of the small veins that are
attached as possible. Then look for the main vein of the small lobe at
C. Lift the vein up gently while holding the foie gras down with the
fingers of your other hand so you don't pull away pieces of the liver,
and detach it, working toward D. Toward the top, about three-quarters of
the way up, feel and detach the branches one by one. As each one breaks,
stop working on it and go on to the next.

 3. In the large lobe, cut off green-colored flesh, if any, at A. Pull
from A to small veins at E, then find the main vein at F and proceed to
G as in C to D. The back of the lobes should stay intact. Remove any
bloody spots.

                 - Craig LaBan 


Frozen, but full of fresh zest: These are the results of a foie gras
terrine tasting conducted by staff members of The Inquirer food section.

D'Artagnan Terrine of Duck Foie Gras (8 ounces, $63.75). Made in America
from never-frozen livers, this terrine was the tasting winner, with the
silkiest texture, the fullest natural flavor, and a sweet liver richness
that lingered.

Rougie Flash Frozen Terrine of Duck Foie Gras (17.5 ounces, $42.50).
Thawed under cold water for 11/2 hours then cooked in the microwave,
this terrine was impressively fresh and natural, creamy with a hint of
peppery seasoning on the finish. Not as skillfully made or quite as
refined of flavor as D'Artagnan's, but considering quality and quantity,
it is an excellent value.

Rougie Canned Bloc de Foie Gras (7 ounces, $38.50). The traditional
canned foie gras was a clear second class to the fresh and flash-frozen
samples, with a pasty, over-cooked texture that disintegrates on the
palate and a taste of muted sweetness and dull character.

Rougie Canned Bloc de Foie Gras d'Oie (Goose) with Truffles (2.6 ounces,
$46). This spreadable paste of goose liver suffered from an acrid
metallic aftertaste, possibly from the can or the preserving nitrates.

D'Artagnan Terrine of Goose Foie Gras (8 ounces, $95). Like the duck
terrine, these imported French livers had never been frozen. But the
terrine had a gray color, firmness and giblety flavor that tasters found
far less appealing than the duck, especially considering the price.



