Le Périgord Noir

One of my absolute favorite cultural differences:

A menu specifies that it's serving up duck, "slow roasted in its own fat", and your average American recoils and skips down to the pasta section. 

Le carte du jour specifies that it's offering duck, "slow roasted in its own fat", and you'll quickly notice the glimmer of anticipation in a Frenchman's eyes as he closes his menu and takes a sip of red. 

For those of you akin foodies, behold Dordogne, a carnivore's haven from the fois gras picket lines. I get it...gastro masturbation. Still, I don't know that i'll ever consign.

Divided into 4 Périgords, running along the Dordogne River in the south-west district of France, Dordogne is a true gastro marvel. I myself stayed in Sarlat-le-Caneda, one of the most charming, petit Villages that ever lived, and situated in a central hub of Périgord "Noire", the black representing the dense oak and pine wood of the region. The cuisine of the territory has long celebrated and thrived upon various indigenous ingredients: walnuts, truffles and porcinis, and sufficiently-sized grasslands used to raise the free-range geese which hence produce tantalizingly creamy fois gras, rilettes, patés and confits. 

(The other 3 Périgords be not begrudged: Périgord "Vert",  green to symbolize the region's vast and fertile grasslands; Périgord "Blanc", emblematic  of the limestone plateaux of the area; and Périgord "Pourpre", in reverence of Bergerac, the region's capital and renown wine producer).

 

I was smitten with a host of the restos of the region, but the one which most stood out: Le Petit Manoir. Set-up in a gorgeous, 15th Century hotel particulier with a private garden to boast, and with a menu marrying the area's indigenous fortés with creative, Asian twists, the dining experience was indeed a memorable one. To our delight, the restaurant offered a delicately plated trio de fois gras as an amuse bouche. We moved on to an extremely rich, truffle fois gras as a shared starter. The fusion chimed in with the main courses, myself relishing a juicy, rare salmon prepared with ginger and sesame and plated with sticky black rice.  My step father's plate stole the prize. Fluffy, shrimp ravioli bathed in a fantastic, mildy sweet sea urchin sauce, comparable to a delicate hoisin of sorts. Mom went the whole 9 yards with more duck, this time confit, and incredibly tender as a confit should be. 

Dessert, if you can believe it, sweetened and moussed fois gras served in a petit demi-tasse as a creme brûlée accompaniment.  A potential heart attack on a plate but deceivingly light upon the palate. And every indulgent bite was well worth it.

Le Petit Manoir

3 Rue de la Republique

24200 Sarlat

tel: +33 (0) 5 53 29 82 14

http://www.lepetitmanoir-sarlat.com/lepetitmanoir-sarlat/Accueil.html

Foodies unite: add Dordogne to your travel checklist, or at the very very least, spread the good word. 

(I'm a fool for not taking pictures of the dinner but I promise to get better! In the interim, one of the restaurant's garden as well as another 2 the infamous Sarlat farmer's market!)