French Cassoulet 2023

The Christmas Cassoulet: When Your BJJ Brother Brings Steak to a Meat Feast

It's Christmas at the Matsuda house. The tree is lit. Champagne glasses are lined up on the table. And I've been cooking for over a week.

Cassoulet. The ultimate French winter feast. This is our family tradition now. Not turkey. Not ham. Cassoulet.

But here's what happened this year: my younger brother flew in from Japan. The Takashima family drove up from New York. And Takashima-san - my old BJJ training partner, a black belt - walked through the door carrying a bag.

"I brought ribeye steaks," he said, grinning.

I laughed. "There's already a duck, pork ribs, pork hock, and chorizo in this cassoulet."

He shrugged. "More meat is always better."

He's not wrong.

The Old Days: Train and Eat

Back when Takashima lived in Boston, we had a routine. Train BJJ. Eat meat. That was it.

We'd roll for two hours at the gym - drilling takedowns, working submissions, sparring until we were exhausted. Then we'd go somewhere and destroy a massive meal. BBQ. Brazilian churrascaria. Didn't matter. We needed PROTEIN.

That was years ago. Before kids. Before responsibilities. When it was just two guys obsessed with training and recovery.

Now? We both have families. He's in New York. I'm in Boston. We don't roll anymore. But when he comes to visit? We still eat meat.

Some traditions don't change.

A Week Before: Petit Salé

Real cassoulet doesn't start two days before. It starts a WEEK before.

Seven days before Christmas, I broke down the whole duck. Thighs for confit. I rubbed them heavily with coarse salt, thyme, and garlic. This is petit salé - the old French preservation technique. Salt cure.

I wrapped the thighs and put them in the fridge. Let them cure for a week. The salt draws out moisture, concentrates flavor, and changes the texture of the meat. This isn't just seasoning - this is TRANSFORMATION.

The duck bones? I deboned them carefully and threw them in the freezer. They'd wait there until I needed them for stock.

This is how the French did it. Before refrigeration. Before modern grocery stores. You preserved meat with salt. You saved every bone for stock. Nothing wasted.

The Day Before: The Stock

The day before Christmas, I pulled those frozen duck bones out. Roasted them at high heat until they were deep brown. That's where the color and depth come from. And then, the most important part is rendering duck fat from duck fat. I need fat for confit and cooking later.

Then into a pot with water, aromatics, and vegetables. Simmered for hours. The smell filled the whole house. My daughter kept asking, "When is Christmas dinner?"

"Tomorrow," I told her. "This is just the preparation."

That stock - rich, golden, full of gelatin from the bones - would become the liquid for the beans. This is why you save bones. This is why you plan ahead.

Christmas Morning: The Assembly

Christmas morning, I woke up early. Time to build the cassoulet.

First, the beans. Two pounds of cannellini beans, soaked overnight. I cooked them in the duck stock with tomatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, cloves, tomato paste, thyme, and a splash of apple cider vinegar for acidity.

While the beans simmered, I roasted the pork spare ribs and pork hock. Just salt, pepper, herbs. Into the oven at 400°F until they got some color. Not fully cooked - they'll finish in the cassoulet.

Then the chorizo. I browned it in a pan to render some of that fat and get crispy edges.

The kitchen smelled INSANE. My brother walked in, half asleep. "This is why I flew from Japan."

The pod is already filled with lots of meat

Duck confit is 90% ready (the only process is geeting skin crispy)

The Layering

Here's how you build cassoulet:

Start with a layer of beans in your biggest pot - I used my red Le Creuset Dutch oven. Then the pork ribs. Then more beans. Then the chorizo. Then more beans. Then the duck confit on top - those legs I cured a week ago, now impossibly tender and perfect.

Pour in enough of the bean cooking liquid so everything is barely covered. Not swimming - just moist.

Then into a 400°F oven for 30-40 minutes. What you're looking for is CRUST. The top layer of beans and meat should caramelize. Bubble. Turn golden-brown. That crust is everything.

Controlling crispiness and liquid amount

The Feast

By the time everyone arrived, the cassoulet was ready. I pulled it out of the oven - bubbling, dark, caramelized on top. Set it right on the table in the pot.

Takashima saw it and whistled. "That's beautiful."

We had champagne ready. A big salad with bitter greens to cut the richness. Red napkins folded like bows. Christmas tree lit in the background.

I scooped out portions - making sure everyone got duck, pork, chorizo, and those tender white beans that had absorbed all that duck stock and pork fat.

First bite. Rich. Savory. That duck confit - cured for a week, cooked in fat for hours - just MELTED. The pork ribs fell off the bone. The beans were creamy on the inside, crusty on top where they'd caramelized.

My daughter looked at Takashima's kids. "This is SO good."

Takashima raised his champagne glass. "Can we come next year again?"

"Mi case es tu casa" I answered to my senpai.

We train at different places. But we still gather. We still eat. And that matters just as much.