Hunters' leftovers

Late every saturday evening, during the hunting season, Jeannot and Alain come to the door with large saucepans full of the leftovers of the hunters' meal.
I accept with gratitude, but canot eat it. it is often mutton cooked in goose fat and potatoes cooked in lard. In the cold and congealling form with which we recieve it, there is a desolate smell of heart disease to it.
It is the kind of food that, when hot and pulled straight from the oven in a warm hunting lodge, a man who has spent the day on a cold hillside with a gun in his hand would really appreciate.
On sunday mornings I scrape and scrub the pots and return them to Jeannot with thanks.
Although I can't eat the food and would rather not have to do the washing up, I love the huge, industrial cocottes with the large rivets, long handles and the small, but elaborate stamp of quality.