Cassoulet War Cooking Competition in NYC

Crying for Cassoulet

There are moments in life that quietly change you. Not because everything went perfectly. Not because you felt confident. But because you showed up anyway.

This is the story of how a promise to myself to do one thing each month that scares me led to a five-hour winter drive, a trunk full of beans and lobster for a Cassoulet competition in NYC that I had no chance of winning. Me, a home cook, like a fish out of water, up against 28 well seasoned professional chefs.

What is Cassoulet?

Cassoulet is a deeply comforting, slow-cooked French stew from South West France made with white beans, meat, and time. It's rustic, soulful, and unapologetically hearty, the kind of dish that fills the kitchen with warmth and tells you to sit down and stay awhile... it's a dish that reminds you of your Grandmother and of simpler times.

At its heart, Cassoulet is built on creamy beans (traditionally Tarbais beans) gently simmered with duck confit, pork, and often garlic sausage, all cooked together until the flavors melt into one another. What makes it truly special isn't just the ingredients, but the method: long, slow cooking that creates a rich broth and a golden, crackly crust on top.

In the words of Ariane Daguin, founder of D'Artagnan foods and universally recognized "Cassoulet Queen" (she started this cooking competition 11 years ago), villages of the South West would use their Cassoulet recipes for bragging rites...and a constant renewable source for keeping generational feuds alive over who has the best Cassoulet. The Toulouse versions lean into sausage and pork, Carcassone's version likely includes lamb while Castelnaudary, called the home of Cassoulet, is more bean-forward and rustic.

Why am I cooking Cassoulet?

Well, quite simply, because my husband believed I could... and after 20 years together he hasn't steered me wrong.

The Cassoulet War is typically between Chefs and Restaurateurs. Sébastien, a long time client of D'Artagnan and fervent believer in the quality of their products agreed to compete when asked. Then, 2 weeks before the competition, he received a private dining request that he could not refuse. He broached the idea to me gently. "What are you doing February 2nd?" "Is our babysitter available?". Before I knew it, he was subbing my name for his. Not as his stand in at the restaurant, but as Le Chef's Wife. We worked together to create a Cassoulet recipe that would evoke our time on the French Riviera, with products I felt comfortable cooking. (If you haven't tried our Grand Aïoli recipe, I recommend you do!).

D'Artagnan Cassoulet Competition NYC: February 2, 2025

The day started early.

At dawn, Sébastien and I were already at his restaurant, L'Avant-Garde in DC, prepping ingredients for the competition. Cracking lobster, grilling octopus, and poaching squid in milk and thyme. We marinated mussels in white wine, parsley, and olive oil. We poached lobster tails in clarified butter. And the Tarbais beans, soaked for 24 hours, and then blanched were simmered in lobster until deliciously fragrant and tender.

Before packing the car, we made a small test version together.

I folded chunks of lobster, squid, and octopus into the beans and slid a cast-iron pan into a 350°F oven to form a light crust. Then came Sébastien's favorite finishing touches that evoke the French Riviera: confit lemon and capers, orange zest, Espelette pepper, fennel pollen, and a puffed rice crumble for crunch. Strategically placed octopus tentacles and mussels peeked through the broth on top.

I took one bite.

Piping hot. Deeply comforting. Every ingredient perfectly cooked and flavorful.

My nerves did not let me think of it as a competition. All I wanted was to show up with something that would make us proud.

The Drive and the Doubt

As we packed the car, sweaty and already tired by 10 a.m., my mind spiraled.

School was cancelled. Again.
We were paying for a babysitter all day.
I had businesses to run.
Kids at home.
A four-hour winter drive ahead.

Sébastien, calm and methodical, stacked containers neatly into the trunk. He tucked my soccer-mom rolling cart in the back seat and placed a bottle of water in the console. He was genuinely excited for me.

On the drive north, I called my mom. My sister. My dad. Friends. Repeating the same refrain:

What in the world am I doing?

As a New Year's Resolution I had promised myself to do one thing a month that scares me, but did it have to be this ridiculous?

Driving to NYC and back in 24 hours with a car full of cassoulet ingredients to compete against professional chefs.

By the time I reached the Lincoln Tunnel, my arrival time jumped 45 minutes...I would be late.

Total gridlock.

Walking Into a Kitchen Full of Chefs

Mountains of snow and slush lined the streets. It took nearly 30 minutes just to pull up to the venue to unload. Inside, the kitchen buzzed with activity.

Twenty-eight chefs.
Hot pans moving fast.
Choruses of ,"Coming around, hot!", and "Behind!", rose above the clatter of stainless steel pans on the line and oven doors slamming.

I slipped into the back of the Chef's lineup like a kid late for class. White jackets. Tattoos. Beards. Confident stances of people who belong.

I nearly turned around.

Instead, I stayed.

Two NYC based cooks, Food Stylist Namrata Hegde and Vinny Cardinale of The Pierre Hotel, near strangers five minutes earlier, became my team. We secured a tiny sliver of counter space and began re-creating exactly what Sébastien and I had practiced that morning:

• Lobster knuckles gently reheated so butter melted around them
• Mussels added cold at the last minute, letting the heat of the dish warm them
• Beans warmed but not dried (so important!)
• Octopus hot, but not tough

With ovens jammed and burners scarce, every step required strategy. Like a game of chess that the chefs all knew how to play. I burned my garlic chips, which were supposed to go on last, and we had to pluck them off one by one.

Then they announced that we would be among the first judged in the blind tasting.

Of course.

Letting the Dish Go

Head Chef Pierre Landet came to retrieve my cassoulet.

I had arranged octopus tentacles in a sunburst on top of my bright yellow cocotte. A final sprinkling of orange zest. A touch more confit lemon. A few extra pieces of lobster.

I snapped a quick photo.

"On y va, on y va!" I recognized the impatience. Who is this silly girl taking photos in the kitchen?

And just like that, my cassoulet was gone.

No time to catch a breath. I immediately turned back to preparing large hotel pans of cassoulet for the crowd, now 350 people. I realized something in that moment.

You have to be an adrenaline junkie to be a chef.

There is no backspace in the kitchen. Decisions have to be made quickly on the spot and they are final. Your team is looking to you to make the right choice.

So many times I wanted to call Sébastien for advice, but he was unreachable, cooking a private dinner for a VIP back in Washington, DC, his phone in a black box.

Vinny was indulgent with me. I definitely lucked out with my team.

Serving the Crowd

When I finally stepped into the dining room, I realized I had not looked in a mirror for hours. My apron was splattered with lobster jus.

The room was loud. A brass band played. Costumed Muskateer mascots mingled. Guests were already several glasses of wine in. Namrata was thankfully holding the fort with a long line of guests eager to try the "Cassoulet de la Mer".

At my table, I found my footing.

"A seafood cassoulet inspired by the French Riviera with lobster, octopus, squid, and mussels. Tarbais beans cooked in lobster stock. Finished with confit lemon, orange zest and fennel pollen", I repeated hundreds of times to outstretched hands and eager faces.

Years of farmers markets as a kid and countless trade shows in my hotel career kicked in. I served. I talked. I smiled.

Two hours disappeared.

Chefs began stopping by my station.

"How did you confit the lemons?"
I explained my cold-water-and-sugar blanching method, repeated 4-5 times.

Nods of approval.

Guests told me that our dish was exceptional.

I smiled.

Still not even considering winning.

The Moment

There were three awards:

• People's Choice
• Best Revisited Cassoulet
• Best Traditional Cassoulet

No third place. No runner-up.

"Ariane Daguin boomed into the microphone, "The Best Revisited Cassoulet goes to…"

"Anina Belle Giannini, Le Chef's Wife."

I froze.

Namrata took my wine. I walked to the stage in disbelief.

Celebrity Judges Elizabeth Falkner and Sara Moulton told me:
"Your dish was a standout."
"So beautifully done."

I kept saying, "But I am just a home cook."

They smiled. "You did a beautiful dish."

I cried.

Not when I won global marketing awards.
Not for big career milestones.

But for Cassoulet.

Because this was not about food.

It was about showing myself what happens when I do not talk myself out of trying.

What's Next

A radio host asked me on stage:

"If this was the thing that scared you for February, what is March?"

Taking a beat to think about it, I said:

"Finish my book proposal." The one that has been sitting on my desk for a few years now...the project that I tell myself I don't have time to finish, I am too busy with other things.

So I am telling you this because maybe you need to hear it too.

Do the thing that scares you.

Not because you are guaranteed to win.

But because you are guaranteed to learn who you become when you try.

With love,
Anina Belle
Le Chef's Wife