
Beans, pork, duck and a crust you break back in. My cassoulet, cooked my way.
Cassoulet has a reputation for being a project. It isn't — it's mostly waiting. The active cooking is straightforward; the work is in the bean broth, the bare simmer and the crust you break back into the pot. This is my version, the way I make it: a Scotsman cooking French food. Cook it by eye. Watch the food, not the clock — your hob, your pan and the amount in it decide the timings, not me.
The beans cook in seasoned broth until they're creamy inside and still holding their shape — that starchy liquid is the sauce, so it never gets drained. The pancetta, sausage and pork are browned hard first, and that browning is where the deep savoury back-note comes from. The pork is already braised fork-tender before anything goes in the oven; the oven stage isn't there to tenderise it. It brings the assembled pot together — concentrates the broth, works the pork, duck and sausage flavour through the beans, and builds the crust. Breaking the first two crusts back through the surface stirs browned crumbs, rendered fat and concentrated liquid into the top. The third is left alone to finish crisp. That's the one we're eating.
Confit duck stays, the sausage keeps doing its work, and a chunk of slow-cooked lamb shoulder goes in alongside the pork — braised the same way, until it's fork-tender. Earthier, gamier, a bigger pot for a bigger table.
Crumble 100g of black pudding through the final breadcrumb layer. It melts down into the crust as it bakes, adds a peppery, iron-rich edge, and takes the top from golden to deep mahogany. Very right at a Scottish table.
Tinned cannellini (4 × 400g, drained but keep the liquid), roast chicken thighs in place of confit, good butcher's sausages, smoked pancetta. Skip the pork braise — diced cooked ham instead. Two crust pushes rather than three, each one going back in until it's properly browned. Same eyes, less waiting.
Fridge 4 days, sealed. Freezer 3 months in portion tubs — the texture holds up well. Reheat covered in a low oven at 150°C with a splash of stock until it's hot right through, then uncover until the top has crisped back up. Microwave reheats split the broth — best not.
Cassoulet isn't a spiced dish, it's a seasoned one. Cloves and bay carry the aromatics through the broth; black pepper does the lifting on the plate. Paprika and herbes de Provence turn it into something else. Deep and quiet, not loud.
Cassoulet is rich, savoury and deep. It needs something bright and bitter beside it or the table goes one-note. Bitterness from the witlof, acid and mustard from the dressing, fat and crunch from the walnuts. Whisk it up while the cassoulet rests and don't dress the leaves until the pot's on the table.
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Beans, pork, duck, time. Get those four right and the pot does the rest.
Cover the beans with cold water by 5 cm and leave them 8–12 hours on the bench. Drain and rinse. This one is a genuine time instruction — un-soaked beans cook unevenly and you'll be chasing the texture all night.
Soaked beans into a big pot with the smashed garlic, one onion halved, a bay leaf, the cloves and a teaspoon of salt. Cover with cold water by 5 cm. Bring them up to a bare simmer — a lazy tremble on the surface, never a hard boil — and hold them there until they're creamy inside but still holding themselves together. Squash one against the side of the pot: it should give completely with no chalky centre, while the skin stays intact. Taste the cooking liquid; it should taste like a light savoury broth. Leave the beans in that liquid. Don't drain — that's the sauce.
Cold pan, low heat, pancetta in dry. Let it go until the fat has rendered out and the pancetta has proper colour on it — that's what you're looking for, not a number. Lift it out and leave that fat in the pan. We've got plans for it. Crank the heat. Pat the pork shoulder dry, salt it, and lay it in a properly hot pan in batches, single layer. Then leave it alone. It likes it hot and it likes being left alone. When it's built a deep brown crust it'll release on its own — that's when you turn it. Stop fucking about with it every ten seconds. Out. Brown the sausages whole until they've got deep colour all over but are still raw in the middle. Out. Don't crowd the pan — packed, wet meat steams instead of browning.
Drop the heat to medium. Remaining onion, carrot and whole garlic cloves into the rendered fat with a pinch of salt. Cook them until they've softened and lost their raw edge and the onion has gone translucent with a bit of gold at the edges. Keep the garlic moving so it doesn't burn — burnt garlic will haunt the whole pot. Stir in the tomato paste and cook it until it darkens a shade or two and stops smelling of raw tomato paste. Pour in the white wine and reduce it by two-thirds — you can see two-thirds, no timer required — scraping up the fond as you go. Pork back in, then the chicken stock, the second bay leaf and the thyme. Bring it to a bare simmer.
Once the braising liquid has been built and brought to a bare simmer, cover the pot and put it into the 150°C / 300°F oven. Braise until the pork is properly fork-tender. A fork should twist through it without resistance and the meat should want to fall apart when lifted. The pork decides when it's ready. While that's happening, slice the sausages into thick rounds, and lift the duck confit legs out of their fat, scraping most of the jelly off.
Tip the beans and all their broth into a wide, deep oven-safe pot — Dutch oven, or an earthenware cassole if you've got one. Stir in the braised pork and its liquid, the rendered pancetta and the sliced sausages. Nestle the duck confit legs on top, skin up. The liquid should sit about three-quarters up the beans; top up with stock if it doesn't. Taste it, adjust the salt, and crack pepper generously over the top.
Scatter a third of the breadcrumbs evenly over the surface. Into the 150°C oven, uncovered, and leave it until there's a proper golden crust across the top and the cassoulet is bubbling underneath it. That's the colour we're after.
Pull the pot out. Use the back of a spoon to gently press the browned crust just beneath the liquid at the surface, working across the pot section by section. You're wetting that browned, fatty, starchy crust back into the surface of the cassoulet — not stirring the pot, not disturbing all the beans and meat underneath. Once it's pushed back, scatter another third of the breadcrumbs over the top and return it to the 150°C oven until you've built another properly browned crust.
Push that crust back through the surface the same way — back of a spoon, section by section, under the surface without stirring. Scatter the last of the breadcrumbs over and back into the oven until the top is deep golden and crisp and the cassoulet is bubbling lazily around the edges. This crust stays exactly where it is — that's the one we're eating.
Rest the pot on the bench for 10–15 minutes off the heat. That one is a real time instruction — the broth thickens as it settles and everything pulls together. Serve straight from the pot at the table with crusty bread, the witlof salad and the rest of the white wine.
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