Canard à la Duchambais

Canard à la Duchambais is a specialty of the Bourbonnais province, a.k.a. le département de l'Allier in central France. After mentioning it a few weeks ago, I never got around to posting about it. I made it when we got back from our quick trip to the Bourbonnais area in March.

Cuisses de canard gras that I had in the freezer

I had never associated duck with the Bourbonnais area, but it turns out to be one of the varieties of poultry that are raised there and elsewhere in the Auvergne, along with chickens and turkeys. Is duck "poultry"? I don't know for sure, but I think it is. If you can't get duck, you can still make this dish, but with chicken or turkey legs and thighs.

Purée the livers (chicken, duck, turkey...) for the Duchambais sauce

The fact is, the sauce Duchambais is a Bourbonnais specialty that can be used to enhance chicken, turkey, rabbit, beef, pork, or veal dishes. It seems to have been invented a couple of centuries ago in the Lapalisse/Vichy area by a cook working for a certain Duchambais family and was based on an Austrian recipe. Its ingredients are wine (especially Saint-Pourçain red wine), onions, vinegar, mustard, brandy, liver, and cream.

Brown the duck legs and thighs in fat in a pan on the stove...

The classic Duchambais dish these days is made with fresh duck legs and thighs, which are browned and then braised in red wine. It's best made with a young, farm-raised duck, which will cook quickly and be very ttender. You can also make Duchambais with a tougher variety of duck, called canard gras (duck raised for its liver, which becomes foie gras), but the cooking time will be longer if you want it to be tender.

...and then braise them in the red wine before adding cream and pureed liver etc.

Here is the recipe I got from Julie Andrieu's Carnets de Julie cooking and food show on French TV (and adapted) for my canard à la Duchambais. Substitute any good red wine for the Saint-Pourçain, Cognac or Armagnac for the marc, butter or oil for the duck fat, and chicken livers for the duck livers.

Canard à la Duchambais
recette du Bourbonnais

4 cuisses de canard coupées en deux
3 c. à soupe de graisse de canard
3 oignons
1 échalote
250 g de foie de canard
375 ml de Saint Pourçain rouge
4 c. à café de moutarde à l’ancienne
10 cl de vinaigre de vin rouge
1 petit verre de marc
1 c. à soupe rase de farine
20 cl de crème fraiche
ciboulette
oignons frais

Faites chauffer la graisse dans une grande cocotte en fonte. Quand elle est
bien chaude, faites dorer les cuisses côté peau. Retournez-les et laissez-les
cuire sur l’autre face. Attention, elles ne doivent pas attacher.

Pendant ce temps, hachez finement les oignons et l’échalote. Videz la
graisse rendue à la cuisson du canard et ajoutez le hachis dans la cocotte.
Laissez fondre 5 minutes, saupoudrez de farine, remuez et arrosez de vin rouge.
Salez et poivrez, couvrez et laissez mijoter 50 minutes sur feu doux.

Pendant ce temps, dans le mixeur, placez les foies, mixez, ajoutez la
moutarde, le marc et le vinaigre. Mixez finement. Réservez au frais.
Ajoutez le mélange dans la cocotte en remuant au fouet. Laissez mijoter
encore 10 minutes à feu doux. Ajoutez ensuite la crème hors du feu,
remuez et servez.

Pour une présentation plus raffinée, mixez la sauce avant de servir (mais
moi j’aime bien les petits morceaux d’oignons). Saupoudrez un peu de
ciboulette et d’oignons blancs ciselés sur les morceaux. Accompagnez de
pommes de terre, de petits pois ou de riz.

Afterwards, I found this recipe on a blog in English about classic French recipes. It has one funny "blooper" in it but that doesn't diminish its quality and accuracy. We had our duck with sautéed potatoes and choux de Bruxelles.

Du cent pour cent Saint-Pourçain

Wine is produced in the Bourbonnais. It comes from the town of Saint-Pourçain-sur-Sioule, which is about 20 miles south of Moulins and 25 miles north of Vichy. I bet not very many people outside of France have ever heard of it.

The first time Walt and I went there was in 2007, when we drove over to the nearby Bourbonnais town of Montmarault to get Callie the border collie and bring her home. We stopped in Saint-Pourçain to taste the wines and had lunch in a restaurant there before going to the breeder's, which was (is?) called La Vallée des Géants.

Anyway, Saint-Pourçain wines have a long history. Grapes were grown there and turned into wine in pre-Roman days, according to what I've read. The Michelin guide calls Saint-Pourçain (pop. 6,000) « une jolie bourgade » and mentions the town's « maisons médiévales » and its « vestiges de fortifications ». Saint-Pourçain wines were prized by the Capetian kings of France for centuries in the Middle Ages.

And what about the wines? The reds are what French œnologists call « assemblages » — don't ever say they are blends or mélanges! — of the juice of Gamay and Pinot Noir grapes. The latter are the varietal used to make the finest vins de Bourgogne, and the former are the grape that is made into the fruity and drinkable wines of Beaujolais and of much of Touraine. The percentage of each grape can vary from wine to wine and producer to producer in Saint-Pourçain wines, to vary their character and taste.

Saint-Pourçain white wines are made by "assembling" the juice of three different grapes — well-known Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, along with a local varietal called Tressallier. I find the whites especially good, because Chardonnay rounds them out and Sauvignon Blanc (or maybe Tressallier) gives them the right amount of acidity. I'd love to taste a wine made exclusively with Tressallier one day. The same grape, related closely to Chardonnay, is called Sacy in Burgundy.

Saint-Menoux : l'église était fermée

We spent little time in Saint-Menoux. It was starting to rain, we thought. I parked the car in front of the church, which we had noticed a couple of days earlier when driving through the town on our way  to Moulins from Bourbon-l'Archambault. This time, we stopped to take a look around.

There was a nice-looking boulangerie/pâtisserie across from the church, but we didn't need bread because we had decided to get carry-out pizza from a restaurant for dinner. I got out of the car and went to see if the church was open or all locked up. I wanted to at least take a peek inside.

Walt waited in the car with the dog, because we wouldn't be able to take Tasha into the church anyway. I walked up the path that led up to the front door as a light drizzle started to fall. I was afraid the rest of our afternoon might get washed out.

When I got to the church door, this is what I found (above). It was locked up tight. I turned around a went back to the car. At least the drizzle wasn't getting any heavier. As I crossed the street, a man and a woman in a car stopped and asked me if the church was open and worth the visit. I told them I hadn't found a way to get in. They drove off.

I did get one final shot of the church, from the opposite end compared to the photos I posted yesterday. I'm almost glad I didn't go inside, because I might have tried to stick my head into Saint-Menoux's sarcophagus, with unwanted results. We drove on to Agonges where, to our surprise, the sun was shining.

L'Église de Saint-Menoux

Quoting (and translating) the Michelin Guide Vert for the Auvergne region: "The church at Saint-Menoux is without doubt one of the most beautiful in the Bourbonnais. The existing edifice was built in the second half of the 12th century on the site of an old sanctuary dedicated to the memory of a 7th century Breton monk of Irish origins whose name was Menulph."

Menulphus is described elsewhere as an Irish bishop who died in the Bourbonnais province in the 7th century. After Menulph's death, his simple-minded manservant, Blaise, not understanding that Menulph was really dead, poked a hole in Menulph's sarcophagus and stuck his head inside to say a final goodbye to him. When he pulled his head back out his simple-mindedness had been cured. The cure was attributed to Menulph as the final miracle he ever performed.

Since that time, Saint-Menoux has been a pilgrimage destination known as a place where the simple-minded can find a cure... as long as their head doesn't actually touch the stone of the sarcophagus, because in that case their condition gets worse rather than better. If you're only slightly simple-minded, you might not want to take the risk.

The church at Saint-Menoux, like most, has been maintained, modified, improved, and expanded over the centuries to become what it is today. It stands less than 10 minutes north of Souvigny by car, and about the same distance east of the spa town of Bourbon-l'Archambault.