Chamois, three weeks hung

The chamois came down from Vallée des Chapieux three weeks ago and has hung since in the cold room at two degrees, which is where it stops being an animal and starts being meat.

Three weeks is a long hang and not everyone would do it. The argument against is that you lose weight — a good deal of it — and that the flavour goes somewhere some diners will not follow. The argument for is that at twenty-one days the muscle has given up its toughness entirely and the taste has moved from iron and blood into something closer to hazelnut and cured ham.

Théo serves the saddle rare, sliced across, with a sauce built on the bones and a spoonful of the blackcurrant that was picked in August and put down in vinegar. The rest of the animal has a slower life: the shoulder braises for six hours, the shanks longer, and what remains goes into a terrine that will not be opened until Christmas.

There is no part of it that leaves the kitchen as waste. This is not a virtue we advertise, because it was normal for several centuries and only became remarkable recently.

Twelve portions of saddle. When they are gone the dish leaves the menu until the next animal comes down, which may be a fortnight or may be a month. Guests occasionally find this frustrating. We find it difficult to see an alternative.