Civet of Pork

Dining at Bouchon Hugon

Waking Up in France. I seriously had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. It’s been 4 long years and so hard to believe that we are back again.

This morning I awoke to the sounds of Lyon going to work. The hustle and bustle of France’s 3rd largest city rose softly up to our apartment window, carried up on a cloud of intoxicating scents of croissants and pain au chocolat from a nearby boulangerie.

Chez Hugon, photo by Francois de Melogue

Our only task of the day was to eat the first serious meal of our trip — lunch at Chez Hugon, an old-fashioned bouchon. Something I had been looking forward to since I last paid the check at the very same restaurant 4 years prior.

Thankfully Chez Hugon was only a short walk away because we stopped to take pictures of every doorway in between. What should have been a five-minute walk turned into an hour-long leisurely stroll. What is it about French doors that I love so much? I think it’s partially because the doors at home are generally the same exact size and color. Here in France, they come in various colors, though usually in hues of green, red, or blue with a few ornately decorated wooden doors thrown in for good measure. Many are gigantic-sized doors towering almost two stories high while some are more modest hobbit-sized portals.

If you have never been to Chez Hugon, it is a tiny bouchon founded in 1937 by mere Lulu. In 1985, Arlette Hugon took over; her family has been running it since. Arlette’s son Eric now cooks but she is still around greeting guests and lending ambiance to the experience.

The décor is quite simple with red checkered tablecloths, wooden furniture, and usually some kind of service bar. The close proximity fosters a more communal, family-like experience. A customer at one bouchon needed more bread to finish her starter and we shared our bread basket so she wouldn’t have to wait. The banter between the kitchen and the dining room is infectious. One woman who couldn’t decide between main courses was joking with the chef that she wanted the other plat as her dessert. I knew exactly how she felt.

At Hugon, there are maybe 25 seats crammed tighter than sardines in a sardine can. The menu costs 31 euros for 3 courses. We started with a delicious goose rillette, salade de pieds de veau (veal feet), and lentils with warm sausage. When I was a small child my grandfather would always give me a rillette sandwich to eat when I was out playing on his property in Perigord. The fatty goose rillette felt like the indoctrination back to old France. The lentil salad was beautifully balanced with just enough acidity to counter the rich pork sausage with pistachios.

For our main courses, we had ris de veau (veal sweetbreads) sauteed meuniere, quenelle of brochet (pike) in a crayfish sauce, and the most incredible civet de cochon (pork stew) I have ever had in my life. Civets are rich stews that are not too unlike a really well-made coq au vin rich in flavor except they are thickened with the animal's blood.

Civet de Porc, photo by Francois de Melogue

This civet was absolute perfection in its execution. The pork was meltingly tender. The red wine sauce was made luxuriously rich with fresh blood whisked in. And the small tiny pieces of salted pork belly just melted in my mouth. The civet was simply served with perfectly cooked tourneed potatoes.

Civet de Joue de Porc

PREP: 5 minutes | COOK: 2 hours | 4 servings

• 8 pork cheeks, or about 1 pound of pork shoulder

• 2 sweet onions, 1 sliced for the marinade and 1 chopped for the dish

• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed

• 1 bouquet garni

• 1 bottle of red wine

• 2 tablespoons pork lard

• 1 tablespoon of flour

• 1 cup of rich beef stock

• salt and black pepper to taste

• 1/2 cup fresh pig blood mixed with 1 tablespoon vinegar (see note)

1. Prepare the marinade by trimming the pork cheeks of any excess fat. If you are using the shoulder, cut it into 1-inch cubes of meat. Place the pork into a bowl with the sliced onion, garlic, bouquet garni, a few sprinkles of black pepper, and red wine. Let macerate for 8 to 10 hours.

2. Drain the pork and dry the pieces on a cloth. Strain the marinade discarding everything except the liquid.

3. In a Dutch oven, brown the meat in hot lard, for about 5 to 8 minutes. Add the chopped onion and cook for a few moments longer until lightly brown. Sprinkle the flour over the pork then gradually pour in the marinade and stock, allowing it to thicken slightly. Season with salt and pepper, then cover and simmer for about an hour and a half to 2 hours over low heat. The meat should be very tender when it is ready.

4. About 10 minutes before the stew is finished, take a 1/2 cup of juice from the casserole and whisk it into the bowl of blood, then pour this mixture back into the casserole.

5. Serve with boiled potatoes or fresh pasta tossed in butter.

Note:

I can already hear some of my more squeamish readers faint and hit the ground as they read the words fresh pork blood. The civet will not be the same without it but nevertheless, it will still be good. Another solution is to whisk in a 1/2 ounce of bitter chocolate. If you are a trooper and like it old school as I do then go out and find some fresh pork blood. Talk to your local pig farmer.

Please note this recipe was adjusted from Chez Hugon’s online recipe.

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Francois at Chef Hugon, photo by Francois de Melogue

Francois de Melogue is a Photographer, reformed chef, cookbook author, and bon vivant. He lives in Saint Albans, Vermont with his wife Lisa and 12-year-old son Beaumont. His photography is available for sale at his online gallery. For Video recipes.

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