[Chewable kitchen] My holiday pheasant

This month, I indulge in a difficult exercise: I'm going to chronize myself ... maybe because as far as I remember, I always liked to eat and cook.I was in a good school: I saw my dad, big gourmet, cook every day.If he was still alive, it was with him that I would have celebrated him.So he's going to accompany me a bit ...

Born in 1930, he said "During the war, I was hungry.I was in Briançon at the Military Prytaneous.We were served a quarter of red with each meal.I exchanged it for bread -which means that kids were drinking a liter per day!»».And I saw him pick up the bread crumbs at the end of the meal and make only one bite.

Like many of his generation, he did not conceive a meal without meat or without fish, at least a piece of pâté or a slice of ham, at best a good meat in sauce, stew, headless lark or fish.Admittedly, I don't eat meat anymore every day, but I have my love of onions from him.I never start a dish without getting back ...

My mom had some specialties: Calamars with tomato sauce accompanied by aioli and rice and especially her poultry liver Ashkénaze.Once, she had given the recipe to one of her friends who had a restaurant in Bonnieux, the village where we lived.A week later, a new dish had enriched the card: "Poultry lives at La Provençale".I am of Jewish origin ashkenaze by my mom and international by my dad.He whose father and brothers were military, left Avignon at 16 to "go up to Paris".He said: "It was easy at the time, you found a room in a furnished, a job, when you were fed up you drew up your bow and you were another the same day ..." Over there, there,He became a communist.He hosted people from the FLN during the Algerian War.He told his evenings with Chester Himes, Richard Wright, his nights in a West Indian bar downstairs, whose love of rum he kept.Later he set up his shop, "La Cambuse"-the name of the pantry in the boats-who became over time Galerie, in Bonnieux.With each opening, he was preparing a tasty planter -I sometimes finished glasses.Later, I became a clandestine and traveling rum seller, which allowed me to travel in winter.It was then that I started drawing elsewhere ...

My father loved to cook and share.The house was hospital and when it was not my parents who invited, I offered "you just have to eat!"Today, my son does the same ... As my parents worked on weekends, I stayed with my brother at home.I used to do the restaurant on Sunday evening.I concocted a menu with several starters, dishes and desserts.By taking the order I said "I am sorry but tonight, there is no more this ... I recommend that ...".At the time, when asked "What do you want to do later?"", I imagined working as an inspector in the Michelin guide.When I made "crunchy sketch, 52 restaurants in Marseille", I said to myself "here, I realized my childhood dream!»».

Of visual memory, I have little, that is part that I draw, so as not to forget.On the other hand, I remember melodies, flavors and recipes.My parents brought us once a year in a good restaurant.

I like to improvise with what's at home.I love provisions.Maybe it comes from an ancient memory of famines because I am lucky to have never been hungry.

When my neighbor Charly gave me a pheasant just hunted, I thought: "What a beautiful festive meal in perspective!»».So it had to be plucked it and everyone got into it, happy that my 11 year old son was confronted with it.It is rare in town to see that an animal was alive before being on our plates.This is the first time that I have cooked and tasted the pheasant!I read to my son the recipe that Alexandre Dumas gives in his "Grand Dictionary of Cuisine".We had a good laugh: we have neither the "twelve beautiful truffles of the Périgord", nor "the dozen ortolans" and I think we will drink champagne rather than simmer our poultry.I'm going to be inspired by the pranks that my dad concocted, adding a little greenery, and the recipe from Sof's mom, my friend with whom I often cooked when I made replacements at the Plume Plume.If however my son who loves to cook, does not put his grain of salt ...

Ingrédients pour 6 personnes– un faisan plumé et vidé– 500 g d’échalotes ou à défaut d’oignons– 1 tête d’ail– quelques châtaignes cuites – quelques champignons -cèpes, morilles ou trompettes de la mort– un poireau– des figues -fraîches, sèches ou confites– un litre de porto– un bout de talon de jambon– un œuf– un bout de pain sec– à peine de lait– une noisette de beurre– sel et poivrePour l’accompagnement : Crumble de potimarron et de patates douces :– un potimarron– 3 ou 4 patates douces– un bout de parmesan– des noix de cajou– des amandes– un bout de beurre– un peu de farine

Above all, I soak the mushrooms that we picked up in the Jura.I hesitate between the trumpets of death or the morels but I will perhaps keep them for crusts with morels and finally, I can see the trumpets ...

Like my dad, I soak the dry bread a little crumbled in a milk chouya -or cream, and a beaten egg, to bind everything.I mix the heel and a few chestnuts, add the soaked bread.I pour everything into a bowl.I finely switch the washed leek.

I brown the trumpets in a little butter and add two chopped garlic cloves with parsley.I put everything in the salted and peppery stuffing.

I wash the pheasant, interior and outdoor, and the stuffing of the preparation.

In a casserole dish, I brown the finely minced shallots as well as the cloves of garlic.When the shallots are golden, I put the pheasant to brown, return it.I hesitate to add small vegetables, but I will follow the advice of SOF's mom: just the shallots and ... figs.I have dry, frozen and confits this fall.I put the frozen figs in Porto.

When the pheasant is golden brown, I deglaze it in port, cover and simmer.After half an hour, I add a few figs thawed with the rest of the port.I cover and let simmer.When the flesh is tender under the fork, I add a few candied figs, leaves for another 10 minutes and off.

I could make grilled vegetables, of different colors and flavors, finely cut, coated with oil and oven.Delicious.But why not try a pumpkin crumble and sweet potatoes.

Above all, I take out the butter from the fridge.

I cut the pumpkin, as well as the sweet potatoes peeled.I could steam them but make them come back in an olive oil frame.I crush with a fork and put it all in a dish for the oven.In a bowl, I mix flour, cashews and mixed almonds, grated parmesan and small pieces of butter.I mix with my fingers as for a shortbread and crumble on the dish.

I put in the oven for half an hour at 180 °, while the crust is golden.I leave warm.

The time of one or two small cups of champagne and a few zakouskis, I warn the pheasant and there ... it will be the surprise ...

PS: If you also want to lend yourself to the game of a column and transmit a recipe, write to the newspaper here.

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