Foie gras is the kind of luxury food most people only eat occasionally at the finest restaurants. But if you’d like to serve slivers of house-made duck liver terrine on bits of baguette at your next party, or just hoard a whole jar of foie gras pâté and that bottle of Sauterne yourself, it’s now possible to find a steady supply of all things foie right here in Calgary.  

THE FOOD

On the culinary controversy scale, foie gras is right up there in the red zone. Foie gras — literally “fat liver” — is the enlarged liver of a duck (or sometimes goose), a liver that has reached its big, fatty (and, ergo, extremely rich and delicious) state by force-feeding a duck large amounts of grain during the last two weeks of its life.

Foie gras is an authentic Canadian artisan food product. It has been produced this way in France (and now in Quebec) for centuries. It’s something that’s decadent and expensive and not to be scarfed every day. Like caviar, ramps and wild sockeye salmon, foie gras is a delicacy — a special treat for a special occasion. We need to respect the rarity of the product and use it accordingly.

And to be fair, wild ducks and geese gorge on grain naturally as part of their annual migration ritual, storing fat in their enlarged livers to sustain them for long flights across continents, which is doubtless how some early French forager first discovered the addictive richness of duck liver pâté. We’ve just discovered a way to replicate the process and add value to that Moulard duck on the farm.

Foie gras producers are also duck producers, so companies like Rougie and Palmex (the country’s largest producer of foie gras in Quebec) sell a variety of duck and duck liver products, from whole ducks, duck breast, entire lobes of liver for terrines and smoked duck breast, to foie gras products, such as foie gras mousse in jars, slabs, ficelle (convenient little rolls of mousse for slicing into coins) and duck confit.

Canadian producers of foie gras do feed their ducks a paste of crushed corn and warm water twice a day for 14 days through a tube that fits into the duck’s mouth, but each feeding only lasts three seconds. As chefs like Dominique Moussu say, those who worry about foie gras production methods might better ponder the conditions faced by factory-farmed chickens and other livestock.

THE FIND

There are a few places in Calgary to indulge in takeout foie gras.

Dominique Moussu of Teatro (200 8 Ave. S.E., 403-290-1012) — and now L’Epicerie (1325 1 St. S.E., 403-514-0555) — is a French chef with a penchant for fattened duck liver. Where Moussu grew up in Brittany, nearby farms used the classic gauvage method to feed ducks to fatten their livers for terrines and decadent seared appetizers. The rest of the duck went to the meat market, as it does today — legs for confit and tender breasts for magret.

That’s exactly what you’ll find Moussu doing with duck in the kitchen at Teatro and at his L’Epicerie, tucked into the little mall between Bernard Callebaut and Manuel Latruwe Belgian Patisserie & Bread Shop.

Moussu sells whole lobes of fresh foie gras to adventurous cooks, but his specialty is turning it into the terrines and torchon that make the most elegant cold appetizers. You’ll also find other examples of his handmade charcuterie in his shop, from traditional Pâté Breton to duck rillettes and confit.

The day I visited, Moussu was rolling the fresh liver into mini-terrines — enough for six to eight servings — stuffed with his own fig compote, apple and Calvados, or black truffles, and speedily steamed to perfection in the pressure cooker.

At $139 per kilogram, these products aren’t cheap, but you’re getting true artisan charcuterie from a master chef. The torchon, rolled and cooked in duck fat, is the house-made foie gras delicacy that Moussu uses in his now-famous foie gras sandwiches: creamy slices topped with arugula and fleur de sel on his own rustic breads ($14 with hand-cut potato chips).

THE FIX

There’s nothing particularly pretty about a coin of creamy foie gras mousse perched on a piece of toasted baguette, or a lobe of fresh, fat, yellow duck liver. But with a sip of sauternes, a dab of ice wine gelee or a bit of port-infused fig paste, the foie gras taste experience is ambrosian.

That’s the beauty of foie gras — simply seared and caramelized in its own rich fat, even a repellent slab of pale liver is transformed into the kind of appetizer you won’t soon forget—rich, unctuous decadence, with very little work on the cook’s behalf.

You can pick up the pre-cooked torchon, terrine or mousse, or take home the whole lobe of duck liver and start from scratch. You’ll need one or two 1.5-pound livers (about $150 worth) for a classic terrine.

Moussu says it’s important to work with fairly cold foie gras (too warm and it melts like butter). Each lobe splits into two sections; then you need to use your tongs or tweezers to gently pull out the veins that connect the lobes.

For a classic terrine, marinate the pieces of liver in sweet wine or cognac, salt and white pepper for 24 hours in a sealed plastic bag. Next, pack it into a heavy loaf pan, cover with plastic and foil, then bake slowly in a water bath at 200F for about 45 minutes until the internal temperature reaches 120F and no more.

Lastly, cover with foil and top with a piece of cardboard and a tin of tomatoes to weigh it down neatly in the fridge. Two or three days later, it’s ready to slice. Under its thick layer of duck fat, your terrine will keep for a week. Unmould and slice with a hot chef’s knife, dipped in boiling water. Serve with toasted bread.

For seared foie gras, just slice the cold, raw foie gras with a hot knife, season with salt and pepper, then sear it quickly in a hot dry pan, and serve warm over a bit of frisee with a dab of rhubarb confit or fig sauce.