Who knows what came over us, we decided to make our own pie. It’s less time than doing Compostela, to begin with. And for a fraction of the price, it’s like a dive into the origins.
They said the gut is the second brain. If so, the stomach is first.
Anyway, what could be more traditional, festive and relevant than a pie at Christmas?
I’m not one of the snobs who turn their noses up at a good poutine. But I object when people claim that it is the “national dish” of Quebec. A little seriousness, a little pride, let’s see. This thing didn’t even exist in 1950.
The true national dish is tourtière. A dish that has its roots in Europe, has survived several crossings, has been reinvented in New France, and reinterpreted constantly since.
It is the dish that cheers up the family, that brings together friends, that rewards good work, in the camp, in the field or in the city. It fights winter and seasonal depression better than all light therapies: it flashes from within.
It is the dish that can be adjusted to circumstances without it appearing; we celebrate with what we have at hand, a little leaner one year, a little fatter another, it depends if the hunting is better…
It’s our national madeleine: the instant memory of our mothers, our aunts, our fathers, our uncles that comes back through our nostrils.
I said pie. Tourtière “du Lac”, that goes without saying. There is no more debate. She has established herself as the queen of tourtières ahead of all the “meat pâtés”, cipailles, cipâtes. Deep as the Fjord, a confusing mix of domestic and wild meats, cooked potatoes, onions… all of this gathered under a protective crust which alone can justify the dish.
That’s what we wanted to do.
“We” is my friend Michel, who claims a vague childhood in Jonquière and who, seized with seasonal nostalgia, plays “Saguenéen” at the end of November, beginning of December. Having lots of cousins in Chicoutimi myself, I might as well tell you that it doesn’t impress me too much. “We” is also Antoine, known as “the Toine”, born 450, raised 514, who has no regional bias and who knows how to arbitrate culinary controversies. “We” is finally my sister Monique, who came a little “to help cut the potatoes”, but above all to watch over me, because without rigor culinary joy is in vain.
His other quality, in Toine, is having a hunting friend who always has a piece of moose or deer to give. With another friend’s brother-in-law’s moose, we had a respectable quota of 25% game.
I realize that many hunted animals “given as gifts” spend more time in freezers than in our forests.
But back to the pie, as my sister would say.
Beneath the sweet blondness of the pie crust hide vicious ancestral quarrels and irreconcilable theories.
It’s not always pretty, pretty, I must say.
Far from being a “region”, Saguenay–Lac-Saint-Jean is in truth more fragmented than 19th century Italy.e century when the time comes to talk about pie.
By collecting the ingredients from five (confidential) sources, I saw that Jonquière itself is divided between Arvida-Nord and Arvida, which of course are together opposed to Chicoutimi, which for its part is absolutely not d agreement with Alma, herself opposing the approach of Saint-Félicien or Roberval (where I also recommend that of La Bonne Cuisine, a family restaurant).
Minced or cubed meat? Two thirds potatoes or half and half? Are we talking about volume or weight? Dough underneath or only on top?
There is no moderate opinion on these questions, to which you are usually answered: “Are you crazy?” Minced meat ?? » or “Do what you want, but my grandmother wasn’t like that!” »
Already, making cubes with a round vegetable like potatoes is a rare opportunity to square the circle. Mixing half and half recipes to unify the region is a downright – excuse – impossible mission. Which we nevertheless noted, sometimes by adding duck fat instead of pork fat, sometimes by secretly substituting veal stock for the pâté…
The school quarrels obviously don’t stop at the confection.
“You put this in the oven for 12 hours at 225 degrees,” Pierre Lavoie, a proud Saguenéan, told me. He texts me after consulting his aunt: “One hour at 350, lower the heat to 250 for 5-6 hours, remove the aluminum foil (Alcan) for the last half hour. »
He calls another of his aunts.
“One hour at 350, 6-7 hours at 250 with the paper. »
This is in ONE family…
As you know, the tourtière dates back to ancient times. Recipes for crusted meat pâtés have been found on Mesopotamian clay tablets. Really. Everywhere in the world we have our version of a dish where dough wraps meat.
For centuries, the French have been making “tortes”, the same type as meat pies. The English imported into America a sea pie, which is also an ancestor of “cipaille” and what I call here “real tourtière”, but which is the synthesis of all our origins. Without First Nations hunters, who showed Europeans how to hunt moose and other animals they did not know, the pie would not be the pie.
As everywhere else, what is “original” and “authentic” is the fruit of an interculturalism that Gérard Bouchard would not deny. It is never fixed in time, never definitive, even when we think we have “the” recipe, which never existed.
The main thing is not, of course, in the detail of the ingredients, but the transmission from the elders to the next, from the old to the new Quebecers, in this thread which connects us to the origins, which we call “tradition”, but which never stops taking us further.
Because there is no tradition without love.