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Gourmet News, No. 39: "The Fascinating Cabbage Rolls: From Homemade Flavors to High-End French Cuisine"

Before our first meal of the year at Chantrelle in Motoyoyogicho, Chef Nakata sent me an email saying, "For the main course, we'll have choux farci." One of Chantrelle's standard main courses during the cold winter months is choux farci. Choux farci is a local dish from the Auvergne region of France, a type of cabbage roll made with a whole cabbage. It is a specialty of the three-star restaurant Régis Marcon in the village of Saint-Bonnet-le-Froy in the Auvergne region, where the chef trained. While the minced meat sandwiched between the cabbage at Marcon is pork, Nakata uses Kawamata Shamo from Kawamata Town, Fukushima Prefecture. What's more, chicken is not oily enough, so he sneaks in foie gras, which is a nice touch. A dish that warms both the body and the soul.

But when I think back, cabbage rolls are exactly what I remember from my mother's cooking. When I was a child, it was a dish that was always on the dinner table. It was made by wrapping a round sack of minced meat in boiled cabbage, securing it with a toothpick, and simmering it in a solid consommé made by dissolving it in water. That's it. There was usually more cabbage than meat, and I felt like I was missing something. So, even when eating with a knife and fork, it was rare to eat the cabbage and minced meat together. Instead, I would cut the cabbage, which had soaked up the flavors of the consommé and meat, into bite-sized pieces, finish them off, then cut the cute exposed remains of the minced meat in half or thirds, and finally drink the remaining soup. Even as a child, I somehow understood that the main food was the sweet cabbage that had fully absorbed the flavor of the meat, but I still missed the meat.

Chef Nakata's "choux farci", which follows in the footsteps of Marcon, is originally a French country home cooking elevated to the level of art. However, when I think of "choux farci", I don't feel a nostalgic association with my late mother's cabbage rolls. Those are completely different. My mother didn't like eating out, and even when she had guests, she rarely ordered food from a restaurant (delivery). I don't think she was particularly good at cooking, but it seems clear from the stories I heard from my aunts after she passed away that she had a strong belief in feeding her children the food she cooked. So even now, if there's one thing I really want to eat again, it's a certain dish my mother made. It's not "cabbage rolls", but "the taste of my mother's cooking" is something special.

I think that at first, I thought that cabbage rolls, one of those "tastes of home cooking," were not something you should pay for and eat outside. What changed my mind was when, as a university student, a friend invited me to go eat something cheap and delicious, and took me to a restaurant called "Acacia" in Shinjuku. When I looked it up now, I found that Western restaurants also serve hayashi rice, curry, sauteed pork, and cream croquettes, but when I went out nearly half a century ago, I thought that there was only cabbage rolls. Because everyone ordered cabbage rolls. Moreover, the cabbage rolls were not made with consommé, but with a white stew. And it was cheap. The cabbage rolls stew came with rice and cost less than 400 yen. As for whether it was delicious, I wasn't very impressed. I was just surprised that cabbage rolls were being eaten outside. It was a culture shock.

At that time, I remember that there was only one menu at the long-established curry restaurant "Murgi" in Shibuya Hyakkendana. I often went to a classic coffee shop called "Lion", and "Murgi" was located nearby, so I stopped by there. It was like I was curious to see something scary. The inside of the restaurant was dark. Only the kitchen was strangely bright, and the lighting in the restaurant was only from that light. I sat down at an empty table in the darkness, and an old man appeared with a glass of water and muttered, "Murgi with eggs, right?" His voice was thin, but he had a silent pressure that left no room for argument, so I had no choice but to answer "Yes." I'm sure there were several types of curry written at the entrance of the restaurant, but I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter anymore. I was surprised again by the curry that came out. The rice was served in a pyramid shape. The curry roux tasted neither Indian nor European. It also had a boiled egg on top. There was no internet or anything back then, so I must have looked it up in a book or something, but it turns out it's run by an elderly couple, with the wife in charge of the kitchen. Apparently it's a reproduction of the curry the husband ate in Indonesia when he went there during World War II. I'm not sure if this is tasty or not, but the atmosphere is addictive, so I went there quite a few times. Of course, I wanted to hear, "Murgi with eggs, right?" What's surprising is that even though they've been taken over by other owners, both "Murgi" and "Lion" are still going strong. Just like "Acacia" in Shinjuku, it's amazing how long-established restaurants can be.

Back to the point. Anyway, another specialty of Russian cuisine is rolled cabbage. This one is tomato flavored with sour cream. This one is also a bit suspicious, but when it comes to Russian restaurants in Tokyo, Asakusa is the place to go. I have visited Strobaya in Asakusa several times. I researched this recently, and found out that someone who trained at a Russian restaurant in Akasaka opened Manos in Asakusa. Chefs from Manos opened Strobaya, Larousse, and Bona Festa in the same city. These four restaurants are apparently long-established. The Russian restaurants in the downtown area have a similar feel to the Western restaurants in Asakusa, such as Yoshikami, Grill Grand, and Lisbon. They are more approachable than sophisticated, and are not authentic Russian cuisine, but are arranged in a Japanese style. They are not French cuisine, but are Western cuisine. This suspiciousness is what makes them so appealing. You can eat quite expensive rolled cabbage.

In the end, perhaps "stuffed cabbage" is a nostalgic dish. Moreover, it has a slightly marginal feel. A cheap and delicious long-established Western restaurant in Shinjuku. A Russian restaurant in Asakusa. And local cuisine from the French countryside. Moreover, surprisingly, the "choux farci" I had at a high-end French restaurant was a simple, clear soup, and was closest to what I had at home. In the end, it may be that the taste of my mother's cooking is what I have come to.

This month's recommended wine: "Médoc's excellent second-class wine, Saint-Julien, and the hidden fourth-class wine, Chateau Branaire-Ducru."

"Chateau Branaire-Ducru 2018 AC Saint-Julien Fourth Growth" 12,000 yen (excluding tax)

Burgundy, Italy, and finally Bordeaux wines in this course. When I decided to enjoy wine seriously, I thought that mastering Bordeaux wines was the right method, and I stuck to that for nearly a quarter century. However, in recent years I have become interested in Burgundy. As I have gotten older, I drink much less alcohol, and heavier wines have become difficult for me to handle. But my respect for Bordeaux wines, which I have been familiar with for many years, remains unchanged. So, I would like to start by introducing the classified wines of Médoc, which are representative of Bordeaux.

Speaking of Bordeaux, there are the five great chateaux. These five are the four chateaux that were awarded first growth in the 1855 Medoc classification (first to fifth growths), plus Chateau Mouton Rothschild, which was exceptionally promoted from second growth in 1973. The reason I decided on Bordeaux was because I was impressed by Mouton's 1984 .

Only four villages and one broad appellation (Haut-Médoc) produce wines that are classified as such, with only Pauillac and Margaux being first growths (Haut-Brion is an exception, being a wine from Graves rather than Médoc), while Saint-Julien and Saint-Estephe also appear in the second growth category, and Haut-Médoc is classified as third growth or lower.

The Chateau Branaire-Ducru that I will introduce this time is a fourth-growth in Saint-Julien. Although there are no first-growths in Saint-Julien, there are five second-growths, all of which are called super-seconds and are excellent wines that are close to first-growths. The color is as dark as blue ink, and you can tell it is Saint-Julien just by looking at it. The firm tannins of the tight structure contrast with the imposing Pauillac, but both have dignity. Each has its own unique character: the feminine Margaux, the earthy Saint-Estephe, and the neutral Haut-Médoc.

Branaire-Ducru is a unique wine in Saint-Julien, with a color, aroma, and taste that are all similar to chocolate. This wine has a supple texture in Saint-Julien, where many wines have a firm feel, and it has the advantage of being delicious to drink relatively early. This is one of my favorite chateaux, and I have purchased and opened a 1945 vintage, one of the greatest vintages of the 20th century, in Paris.

If you are looking for "charm" rather than "greatness" in Saint-Julien, then you should choose Branaire-Ducru without hesitation. So, this time I chose 2018 , a great vintage, so it may be a little early to drink it. You can drink it now, or let it sit a little longer. I hope you will take this opportunity to experience its charm.

Biography
Osamu Seki

Born in Tokyo in 1961. Currently a part-time lecturer at Meiji University and other institutions. Specializes in contemporary French thought and cultural theory. Director of the Reefer Wine Association.
His books include "An Introduction to Beautiful Men" (Natsume Shobo) and "My Neighbor is Arashi-kun" (Cyzo), and his translations include "How Should We Read Foucault?" by Oksara (Shinsensha) and "Mr. Pydrow, What Use Is a Gastronomic Critic?" by Pydrowski (Shinsensha).
Seki Osamu FACE BOOK
Seki Osamu Official Website

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