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Foie gras mousse recipe

Foie gras mousse recipe

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A highly decadent mousse, which is perfect for Christmastime. Gingerbread is used to line ramekins, which are then filled with a creamy foie gras mousse, before being chilled and served with a cinnamon-ginger syrup.

9 people made this

IngredientsServes: 4

  • 8 slices gingerbread
  • 400ml whipping cream
  • 100g foie gras, cubed
  • 4 tablespoons milk
  • For the Sauce
  • 4 tablespoons honey
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons Armagnac
  • 1 pinch ground ginger
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 6 tablespoons water

MethodPrep:20min ›Cook:15min ›Extra time:2hr chilling › Ready in:2hr35min

  1. For the sauce: Slowly bring the honey, soy sauce, Armagnac, ginger, cinnamon, vanilla and water to the boil. Reduce until syrupy. Set aside.
  2. Cut gingerbread into 1-2cm thick strips (same height as ramekins). Quickly soak 1/2 gingerbread in sauce and use to line ramekins lined with cling film. (The soaked side of gingerbread should be facing inwards).
  3. Cut round pieces of gingerbread to line the bottoms of the ramekins. Set aside.
  4. Place foie gras and milk in a saucepan. Heat over low heat until melted. Let cool.
  5. In a bowl, beat cream with an electric mixer until sift. Gently fold in foie gras mixture. Pour into ramekins and refrigerate.
  6. When ready to serve, turn the mousses out onto serving plates and pour over any remaining sauce.

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Foie Gras Recipes Ingredients: 1 1⁄2 lbs. fresh duck foie gras 1⁄3 cup good-quality Sauternes Salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 finely chopped black truffle (optional) Preparation: An advanced preparation which is a classic of French cuisine. A “terrine” is an earthenware cooking dish with a tightly fitting lid. In this version the ingredients are steamed in their own juices. Prepare foie gras: to clean and devein whole foie gras, allow chilled foie gras to warm up so that it's tender and manageable (cold liver is brittle, and its veins harder to locate and remove intact). Pull any bits of translucent membrane.

Step 1

Note: Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Spread nuts on a baking sheet. Bake until brown, about 5 to 10 minutes, depending upon size.

Make The Foie Gras Mousse: Combine the foie gras, Cognac, salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Refrigerate for 1 hour.

Drain the foie gras–marinating liquid into a small saucepan. Add the stock and thyme. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 1 minute to make a poaching broth.

Put the foie gras in the hot broth, cover, and turn off the heat. Poach for 5 minutes, or until the foie gras has an internal temperature of 115 degrees. Remove the foie gras from the broth. Transfer the broth to a small bowl and set over ice to cool it to room temperature. Return the foie gras to the cool liquid and refrigerate for 1 hour.

Remove the foie gras from the liquid, pat dry, and puree the foie gras along with any rendered fat in a food processor until smooth. (If the mousse gets a broken, curdy look to it, add about 1 tablespoon of the poaching liquid to stabilize the emulsion.) Taste and adjust the seasoning. Add the nutmeg and truffle, if desired. Transfer the mousse to a ramekin. Refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours before serving.

Make The Figs: Trim the stem end of the figs. With the tip of a serrated apple corer, a melon baller, or a grapefruit knife, cut a small round out of the bottom of each fig and reserve. Carefully scoop about one-third of the flesh from the center of each fig and reserve.

In a heavy-duty mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or with a handheld mixer, beat the foie gras mousse or prepared foie gras until it is light, like a buttercream icing. Put the mousse or foie gras in a pastry bag and pipe it into the figs. Plug each fig with a reserved round piece of fig. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour or until the mousse or foie gras is firm.

In a small pan, heat the reserved fig flesh with the verjus or vinegar mixture until liquefied. Press through a fine-meshed sieve to remove the seeds.

To serve, cut each fig in half lengthwise and brush the cut side with the glaze. Sprinkle with the toasted almonds and serve.

Foie Gras Mousse with Wine Jelly

For the mousse, trim the liver of all skin, cut into pieces, place in a bowl and pour in the Madeira and Port wine. Add the spices, cover and marinate overnight in the refrigerator.

The next day, drain the marinade. Brown the liver in a pan with butter, then allow to cool.

For the jelly, soak the gelatin in water. Heat the broth and melt the gelatin in it while stirring. Add the Port wine.

Whip the cream. Mash the liver with the cooking juices and press through a sieve. Fold the whipped cream gradually into the cooled duck liver. Soak the gelatin in water and drain. Heat the chicken stock and dissolve the gelatin in it. Stir the gelatin into the liver puree.

Pour the wine jelly 2-3 cm (approximately 1 inch) thick in a square mold or in small serving ramekins and leave to set. (If the jelly has already set in the refrigerator, briefly heat to liquify).

Spoon the liver into the mold(s), smooth and pour over the remaining jelly. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours.

Notes about this recipe

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Where’s the full recipe - why can I only see the ingredients?

At Eat Your Books we love great recipes – and the best come from chefs, authors and bloggers who have spent time developing and testing them.

We’ve helped you locate this recipe but for the full instructions you need to go to its original source.

If the recipe is available online - click the link “View complete recipe”– if not, you do need to own the cookbook or magazine.

Seared Foie Gras Recipe

Start with the best quality Foie Gras.

For this recipe, you will need 4 slices of foie gras, about 2 oz. each.

Choose our ready-to-cook foie gras slices for an easy, luxurious appetizer for two. Or, if preparing this dish as an entrée for more than four people, use our Hudson Valley Grade-A Duck Foie Gras Lobe, and slice the foie gras yourself.

1. First prepare the sauce (See suggestions below), and keep it warm while you cook the foie gras.

2. To Cook the Foie Gras. Lightly score the slices of foie gras on both sides, then season liberally with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Sear in a very hot, dry skillet for about 30 seconds on each side. Before serving, sprinkle a pinch of coarse salt over each slice.

Notes about this recipe

Member Rating


Where’s the full recipe - why can I only see the ingredients?

At Eat Your Books we love great recipes – and the best come from chefs, authors and bloggers who have spent time developing and testing them.

We’ve helped you locate this recipe but for the full instructions you need to go to its original source.

If the recipe is available online - click the link “View complete recipe”– if not, you do need to own the cookbook or magazine.

Foie Gras

Foie Gras

Foie Gras recipes are usually kept for special occasions and celebrations and not often used as day to day dishes for family meals.

Foie Gras is a French delicacy and is made from the liver of a goose or duck which has been fattened especially to produce this classic and well known French food. It is produced mostly in the South West region of France and some in the Alsace region.

According to French law it is made from the liver of the duck which has been fattened by force feeding or gavage feeding as it is known. It is sometimes produced by natural feeding outside of France.

Foie gras recipes are of course part of French cuisine and very popular in restaurants but it is difficult to find fresh foie gras if you wish to make foie gras recipes, even when in France.

The liver from these specially bred ducks is much richer than ordinary liver and has a more delicate flavour. It is often served in the form of a mousse, as a paté with toast or French bread, or on its own with a steak.

You can often purchase Foie Gras in cans or tins from speciality food shops and these will keep for years in a cool pantry or cupboard.

If you have a celebration or special occasion here is an easy way of cooking it is as follows:

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1lb (450 g) foie gras cut into 1/4 inch slices

10oz (275g) small potatoes peeled

3 - 4 tbsp white wine vinegar

Cut the potatoes into thin slices.

Melt the butter in a heavy bottomed pan.

Make four mounds of overlapping potatoes in the pan and press them down.

Sprinkle with salt and pepper and cook gently until the bottoms are golden brown. Turn and cook the other side until it is browned also.

Place the potato cakes on a baking tray and put into a warm oven.

Season the foie gras with salt and pepper.

Prepare a non stick frying pan over a high heat then place the foie gras slices in the pan and cook for about three minutes on each side.

To serve, place the potato cakes onto warm plates and place slices of the foie gras on each one.

Make a sauce by pouring the vinegar into the pan and bring to the boil, scraping the pan as you do to encourage all the meaty flavour to be transferred to the sauce. Pour over the foie gras and garnish with the chives.

Foie Gras - Making a mousse?

This will be my first time ever cooking foie gras, I'm wanting to have it as an appetizer for Thanksgiving. After scouring the Web and some cookbooks, I have found a recipe that calls for it as a mousse on top of some phyllo dough cups. I would prefer to make the mousse myself, but upon perusing the Larousse Gastronomique and several other books, I can't seem to find a recipe that makes a whole lot of sense to me. A lot of the Larousse Gastronomique preparations require an aspic surrounding the foie in a terrine, which to me doesn't sound a whole lot like a mousse when it's finished.

I've found an Emeril recipe, but the foie doesn't seem to be cooked before it's made into the mousse. I've also searched in French and have translated a few recipes but they have also been confusing. I'm really not a stupid person but for some reason I just can't figure all of this out. I don't want to purchase a store-bought foie gras mousse because I prefer to control the ingredients and add my own twist to things. Can anyone clarify for me how I can make a preparation of foie gras that is similar in texture to a pate or potted meat (e.g. for spreading on bread or crackers) and tell me if it is indeed relatively safe to eat the foie without cooking or poaching it first? I don't have qualms about raw eggs or beef, but poultry and offal being raw and undercooked obviously concern me.

Thank you so much in advance, and I hope I made sense in this post! My head's all muddled with how to sort this out.

How To Make a Foie Gras Torchon (Secret Technique Inside!) | The Food Lab

One of the pinnacles of Western cuisine. Cured foie gras, rolled into a cylinder and sliced.

Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt

Did you know that with just $65 and a bit of effort, you can serve your holiday guests the king of all hors d'oeuvres?

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and venture a guess that for the vast vast vast majority of you, this post is gonna seem less than 100% useful. I mean, a cured, fattened duck liver barely cooked and rolled up in a kitchen towel? What the heck kind of a dish is that? How many people even eat foie gras to begin with, mush less at home, and who in their right mind wants to spend three days working on a single cold appetizer?

And fair enough. But if the current state of media is any indication, we love to learn about things we're never going to do for ourselves. We have shows that answer questions like, "can a cockroach survive a nuclear holocaust?" There's an entire documentary about training dragons. And how many of you are prepared for the zombie apocalypse that, to be honest, will *probably* never happen?

By those standards, making a foie torchon doesn't seem so far fetched, does it? And it shouldn't! It is, after all, one of the pinnacles of Western cuisine, combining centuries of exploration into the fields of animal husbandry and breeding, curing and charcuterie, flavor development, and of course general kitchen badassery.

The basic process starts with really good foie gras. Living in the United States, fortunately this is relatively easy to find. There are only two foie farms remaining in the country (the third, Sonoma foie was recently closed due to California law), both of them located in the Hudson Valley in New York, and both of them producing excellent foie gras from very well-raised ducks. (Take an inside look at La Belle Farms here). Once the liver is cleaned of veins, it's cured in a mixture of salt, sugar, and pepper, along with a splash of liquor such as brandy or Sauternes, before being rolled up tightly into a cylinder, typically inside a clean kitchen towel (that would be a torchon in French). After hanging for a few days, it's gently poached, chilled again, then served sliced.

A perfect foie torchon melts on the tongue like the creamiest butter, but with a distinct cured sweetness that forms the perfect balance for a perfumed wine. It's simple to serve—just slice it, put it on a piece of toast, add a bit of dried fruit or preserves, and go—and let's face it, it'll impress your guests.

Foie gras ain't cheap, but it's not out-of-this-world expensive either. A full liver—enough to feed at least 10 to 16 people—will run you $65 if you order it online (I recommend Bella Bella Gourmet, who were kind enough to provide the foie I used for these recipes.

Are you sold yet? Well good, because we're about to dive in. While this is such a classic dish that the technique is pretty much a standard, there are a few tricks I've developed over the past few years to get you to your end in a better, more streamlined manner.

For details of the process and the tricks, read on. Or, jump straight into the step-by-step slideshow above or see the printable recipe here.

Cleaning Foie

Foie comes in two grades, "A" and "B." The grading standards are self-designated, but generally refer to the amount of bruising there is on the exterior of a lobe, and how many interior veins there are. For things like searing or roasting whole, you'd want to go with an "A" liver, since you don't have the opportunity to remove veins before cooking it. For a torchon, on the other hand, we're going to dive in there and remove all the veins anyway, so a B lobe will do just fine.

De-veining the foie is the most painstaking and frustrating part of the process, but it's easier than it looks. I like to do it with a pair of tweezers and a metal offset spatula, which I find is less likely to accidentally cut through a vein than a normal paring knife.

The key is this: DON'T WORRY IF YOU MESS IT UP. Room temperature foie gras is like play doh—extremely forgiving. Even if you completely mangle it trying to get those veins out, you can always push it back into shape and nobody will be the wiser.

Once you've got the major veins out, go back in with your spatula and start pressing the foie around, searching it for any more tiny veins or burst blood vessels that'll leave unattractive red spots in your finished torchon.

Once the veins are out, you're ready to cure.

Measuring Woes

The curing step is the one in which I personally take most issue with existing recipes. Some start with an overnight soak in milk, which accomplishes. nothing, other than to slightly lighten the color of the liver as it leaches out a bit of blood that you may have missed. If you feel like doing it, it won't hurt, but I personally skip this step—the flavor of your torchon will be the same.

The second point in which I find problems is that most recipes have you season your foie by eye, sprinkling it with salt and pepper until it seems right. Any professional charcutier will tell you that the key to a successful, tasty cured meat preparation is to get the proportions of curing agent precisely correct. There's nothing more important in food than proper seasoning, and since you can't exactly taste as you go, eyeballing it just ain't good enough.

These are the proportions we're aiming for. All ingredients are listed as a percentage of the weight of foie gras you are starting with.

  • 1.5 % salt
  • 0.5% sugar
  • 0.25% pink curing salt (optional, but this helps it retain color and produces a unique "cured" flavor)
  • 0.2 to 0.25% white or black pepper

If you work in imperial measure (like ounces and pounds), figuring out these amounts may seem a bit daunting because it is*. Don't make it harder for yourself than it needs to be. If you're making charcuterie, work in metric. It makes these calculations simple. For example, say I have a 500 gram piece of foie gras (about average). That means I need 7.5 grams of salt (500grams x 1.5%), 2.5 grams of sugar, 1.25 grams of pink salt, and 1 gram of pepper.

*See here for more information about why the United States' system of measurement is, well, idiotic.

Now we hit a little snag: my scale only measures in full grams, which means that to measure 1.25 grams of pink salt, I have to estimate it as somewhere between 1 and 2 grams. This doesn't work for me. I need to be more accurate than that.

Simple: Just make a larger batch of curing solution, say 10 times the amount I need. When measuring larger quantities of material, the relative precision of my scale goes up. Rather than measuring 7.5 grams of salt and 2.5 grams of sugar, I just measure 75 grams of salt and 25 grams of sugar and so forth. Once all the seasonings are measured, I mix them all together, then grind them up into a homogenous powder.

To figure out how much I need for the foie, I add up their total percentages. In this case, I know that I'll need 2.5% of this combined curing solution. So for a 500 gram lobe of foie, that comes out to 12.5 grams of curing solution. Even if I'm not 100% accurate this time (as I'll have to estimate between 12 and 13 grams), the degree to which I'm off will be spread across all of the ingredients, which means that any single ingredient will be off by at most 4% or so, and that's an accuracy range I can deal with.

Roll With Me

Next up is another step that I find can be easily streamlined. While many recipe call for seasoning the foie with the curing mixture then letting it rest overnight before rolling it into a cylinder, I've found that by rolling it straight away, you actually get better end results, as immediate rolling will help prevent oxidation from occurring on the surface of the foie. Foie gras is also softer before it's been cured, making it easier to roll and prevent air bubbles from forming.

I spread my foie on a triple layer of plastic wrap (easier to work with than parchment paper), carefully work it into an even square, then sprinkle on the cure using a fine mesh strainer to get a perfectly even snow-like coat.

Anyone who's ever tried to make a foie torchon the completely classical way will tell you that the most difficult step—the one that takes the most practice and doles out the most frustration—is rolling the foie into a tight cylinder. You are not only working with a rather unevenly shaped, soft, greasy object, but you're also trying to squeeze out every single last air bubble inside. The goal is a completely solid cylinder of foie.

Typically, you start this by carefully lifting the trailing edge of the parchment or plastic wrap to lift the foie onto itself, slowly working it jelly-roll style into a cylinder. If it starts to get too warm and stick to the plastic or melt, you have to shove it in the freezer for a few minutes. Typically, you end this by smearing foie over your cutting board, grappling with greasy fat-coated fingers with an unwieldy and misshapen tube, cursing your ancestors for ever bringing you to such a frustratingly uncooperative earth before manhandling your tube of liver into a shape that is at least passably cylindrical.

I was undergoing this very process a few days ago when it hit me: Rolling a foie torchon is not all that different from rolling a sushi roll. if a reticulated bamboo mat could help me roll tight, beautiful kappa-maki, couldn't it do the same for my foie?

Yes, indeed it can. This is the kind of trick that I'd give my right pinky to be able to go back in time and whisper in my own ear back when it was my lowly line-cook garde manger job to make three of these guys every night. Just think of the amount of time I could have saved on making torchons and spent drinking icy cold PBR's in the walk-in instead!

Tighter and Tighter

Now that we have a passable cylinder, our next job is to squeeze out any and all air bubbles. We do this by wrapping the whole thing in cheese cloth, and tightening it until it can be tightened no more.

My method for this is to do it guitar-string style, tying off both ends with butchers twine, the winding a long piece of twine around one end, slowly working it down towards the foie, squeezing the foie tighter and tighter as I wind. By the time its done, the torchon is just beginning to show spots of fat oozing out and has the resilient bounce of an inflated bike tire.

And now, we hang it (in order to help it keep its shape), and wait.

Over the course of the next day (or few days, if you prefer), as your torchon hangs in the refrigerator, the salt and pink salt slowly get to work curing the foie, altering the shape of its proteins so that they become firmer, more opaque, developing flavor and texture. Once sufficient time has passed, your foie will have a tender, fatty texture similar to butter, but with the unique ability to hold its shape just until you bit into it or press a disk onto your tongue.

To Cook or Not To Cook?

At this stage, the most classical of recipes will have you poach your torchon in a bath of sub-simmering hot water for about 20 minutes, long enough to bring the whole thing into the range of 130 to 140°F, effectively cooking it. More modern recipes, such as Thomas Keller's go for a much, much shorter cooking time—about 90 seconds. Tasted side by side, I've always preferred the shorter cooking time. The foie is denser, has a more buttery texture, and doesn't leak as much fat when you slice it or eat it.

I always wondered why this was until I came to what was a pretty obvious realization: Thomas Keller's 90-second poached torchon is essentially uncooked. I stuck a thermometer into a torchon during its simmer and measured the internal temperature. It started at around 40°F, and finished exactly where it started. Aside from the outer few millimeters, absolutely no cooking occurs in a 90-second poached foie. No wonder the texture is so significantly different—we're essentially eating raw cured liver here!

There is, however, a good reason to poach the foie, even if it's only for a brief period: The exterior layers soften enough that you can wrap the cheesecloth even tighter, giving you a better looking finished product. That Thomas Keller poach is really all about appearances!

Once the second poach is done, you're essentially home-free. Hang it in your fridge just long enough to let it firm up again (overnight is best), and you're ready to slice and serve.

I slice off the ends, saving the scraps for myself as kitchen treats, then carefully unroll the center. To get the smoothest slices, dip a thin-bladed knife into warm water before slicing. It should glide through like a, well, like a hot knife through butter. You'll notice that the outer edges might be a little discolored due to oxidation. This won't affect flavor, but for a prettier look, use a biscuit cutter or ring mold to punch out perfect circles.

Unused portions can be wrapped tightly in plastic for a few days, or cryovacked and frozen for up to several months.

What To Serve it With

Foie torchon is excellent on its own with just a sprinkle of crunchy sea salt and a glass of wine—Sauternes is the classic pairing, but port, Riesling, brandy, sherry, or even champagne will all work well—but most folks like to serve it with something a little sweet to complement its rich fattiness.

My personal favorite is bits of toast cooked slowly in butter—for perfectly sized round pieces of toast, use a ring mold one-size larger than the one you use for the foie, as the bread will shrink slightly as it toasts—and a topping of finely chopped prunes soaked in a simple syrup made with equal parts cognac and sugar. It's sweet but not cloying, and the alcohol adds a pleasant bite to the mix.

Other things you might like are fruit preserves, good quality balsamic vinegar (or a balsamic syrup made with sugar and balsamic vinegar), dried fruits, nuts, honey. basically anything you'd put on a cheese plate will do well with foie.

Like I said, making a torchon is not the easiest thing in the world, but it is certainly one of the most satisfying kitchen tasks. It's the ultimate in hors d'oeuvres, using not just one of the finest ingredients money can buy, but also showcasing your skill as a craftsman.

I can't tell you how awesome it feels when you make that perfectly tight cylinder, squeezing it with the twine, feeling the pressure build inside, then touching it and feeling it harden as it cools in the fridge. I found myself involuntarily wandering over to the refrigerator, just to hold it in my hands, to smell its sweet aroma coming out through the cheese-cloth, almost zombie-like in my involuntary actions.

Perhaps we will be seeing a foie-induced zombie apocalypse some time after all.