We planned our NYE to be a full day of cooking

We planned our NYE to be a full day of cooking
                        

We planned our New Year’s Eve to be a full day of fun cooking, trying new things and maybe learning a thing or two. I spotted a pile of frozen ducks at the store at a good price and picked one up.

I hadn’t had duck in ages, and my wife had only tried a taste of it at a fondue restaurant and wasn’t impressed. We both chalked that one up to the general grossness of a plate of assorted raw meat served with a bowl of hot oil. Our brains are hardwired to think “cross contamination” in such a scenario, and it ruined the meal.

We were both ready to cook up a duck and try it again. We decided to stick with a classic preparation as recipes become classics because they’re delicious. We would make duck al orange or roasted duck in an orange sauce, a nice Frenchy thing to add to our repertoire.

Once the dish was decided, we had to find a recipe from among the many out there all claiming to be authentic. Any recipe from Bobby Flay is going to be flavorful, so we checked there first.

Indeed, the end dish looked amazing, but the ingredient list was longer than the federal tax code, requiring the assembly of three separate elements including a sidetrack to make duck confit. That’s too much like work, as my grandfather used to say.

We ended up merging three separate recipes. The sauce would come from the first volume of Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.” The method of cooking the duck came from another of her cookbooks in which she explains how to break the bird down into pieces that are cooked separately to ensure proper temperatures for all. Julia advised roasting a whole duck would end with nicely cooked breast meat and tough, chewy legs.

We also included elements of a recipe from Gordon Ramsay, in which he uses orange peel, onion and bay leaf inside the cavity. We would be roasting the whole bird initially to render the fat, then cut it up into pieces to finish.

A three-day thaw in the fridge and the duck presented her first disappointment. We were counting on having giblets to make duck stock, but there were none included. The supplier did, however, include a helpful packet of orange sauce, which we tossed right out. We had to make our stock with wing, tail and fat trimmings.

We pricked the duck skin all over and set it into the hot oven for 40 minutes, watching as the clear, rich fat collected in the roasting pan. That fat was one of the chief reasons for choosing to make a duck, as it would give us a nice bit of duck fat to cook other things in later.

Out it came to cool for a bit, as we started on the sauce. A bit of port, some thick liquid made from cooked orange peel and the strained stock came together nicely.

We separated wings, thighs and legs from the bird and managed to remove the breast undamaged. The breasts went into a polished copper sauté pan to finish while the rest cooked off in the oven.

We made our green beans with candied nuts and bacon and were ready to finally enjoy the rewards of all that cooking as it neared 8 p.m. The duck finished beautifully and looked just as we’d hoped. Onto a platter the whole business went, surrounded by orange segments.

I cannot say the dish smelled good as it cooked. In fact, it had a distinct, odd smell. Duck must not be overcooked, and some too pink juices mingled with the rendering fat so much that we feared saving it, so that was a loss.

You know what? Duck is gross. I ate part of a perfectly cooked breast but couldn’t get past the texture, like chewing a boneless finger. She took one bite and ran to the bathroom, feeling sick. There’s a reason we haven’t made this before; we don’t like it. Dinner ended up being some fried cheese sticks with marinara.

That duck platter looked pretty though.


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