Our beautiful cassoulet, after its 2nd cooking. That was not the end of it. It finally looked like this:

There is magic in this dish. There is something about breaking up the crust and having some of the liquid bubble up, seep through the cracks and become its own crisp layer. The what do you call it? Sauce? juice? soup? That thick liquid made of disintegrated beans and deeply braised meat spewing up like lava that cools and hardens as it rests.

Everyone enjoyed. Bringing the cauldron to the table, it really is an impressive looking dish. The texture was so smooth and creamy, with the occasional bite of roasted duck leg. The crisp crust layer. Yes.

Would I, will I make this again? I think yes, perhaps when I am older. It is the perfect dish if we had been snowed in for several days like the folks back East is doing. This is most definitely not California food. But it made us all dream. The other thing is it does take a lot of time, which is not bad, you just need a good amount of it, and you must choose to use it making the cassoulet. It was interesting to watch what in its uncooked forms looked like a modest bowl of beans next to a large pile of assorted meats become a bean stew with judicious bits of meat in it. It was a total reversal.

Still and all, it is wonderfully, gloriously rich. I would maybe serve it earlier in the day and take a long walk after eating. Or perhaps before. Or maybe both. The day after I had that sad feeling that I often do when I finish a major musical project, I had developed some kind of relationship to this recipe and this dish. It was an adventure in its own little way. Another iconic French recipe that i had once not made, I have made. I am a little more experienced that I was three weeks ago. What do we do now? We keep going.