Duck. I'll just give you a taste.

I get a lot of people asking me about how I create the dishes and flavour combinations that I do; I'm not reinventing the wheel when I come up with anything, as I'm not into either the trappings of molecular gastronomy, or trying out ridiculously far-reaching flavour combinations - to wit, strawberries and kale will never see a home on any plate I serve. I realize that classics are classics for a reason, and I tend not to stray far from the flavours involved, moreso a new medium to present them in. For instance, I can't count the ways it's possible to serve tomatoes and basil, sweet or savoury. THERE is where the fun lies for me - not in serving pickled cauliflower with a juniper syrup over an Arctic Char terrine studded with raisins, capers and pine nuts. That's lunacy. Who would appreciate that but the 4% of the population that prides itself on looking down its nose at us lowly 96% that LIKE still-sun-warmed garden tomatoes, basil and spankingly fresh Buffalo mozzarella? FUCK me, but their ilk makes my teeth itch.

In deference to the repeated questionings, I'll walk the casual observer through the evolution of a dish I created recently involving duck as the locus of attention. I LOVE DUCK. I revere and respect all creatures that live and die for my culinary exploitation, but duck stands head and waterproof shoulders above them all. I don't know if I'll ever know what it is about it that generates such friggin' lust in me, but I will NEVER treat a duck wrongly. I'd be hard-pressed to say the same of most girls that have passed through my life.

1. The Conceptual Stage

I have a duck.

You died for a good cause, sir or madam.

What can be done with it? Well, since the idea of roasting a duck whole does not fill me with girlish glee (who the hell wants well done breast meat on a duck?), I must of necessity butcher it down into it's primal cuts - breasts, legs, and leftover carcass, separating as much excess fat as I can from said carcass. This affords me three different applications to cook the duck within:

a) make stock with the carcass (roast the shit out of the carcass before you do), and thus reduce it down to a beautiful sauce

b) braise the legs (either in the rendered fat, which is called confiture from the French term - a historic method of preservation - or in the resultant stock from the carcass) and then do something fun with them afterwards, and

c) cook the breasts to a perfect medium rare

....all within the same plate. Duck is a particular meat that lends itself to showcasing several different ways of preparation on the same plate, simply because of the extravagance of purchasing one. I'd like to get my money's worth - wouldn't you?

Now that I decided on those factors - roasting the breasts medium rare, confiture of the legs (to a sinfully delicious well done, they have a dream-like texture), which implies a rendering of the fat, and making stock from the remains, I now need to choose co-stars in the production to follow: what flavours do I want to frame the duck within? And within that question, what textures?

It being spring/summer, I turn to the Orient for inspiration - Asia produces cuisine that, while dense in flavour, is very light in terms of it's preparation and reception; you know the old adage about being hungry again thirty minutes after eating Chinese? - and duck welcomes heavy flavours, but I don't want to be weighed down by a heavy beef stew-like concoction. so I start thinking of ginger, soy, something sweet to balance like honey, acidity to undercut and stabilize the presence of the fat in the duck; then, I start thinking of textures and how it will present itself on the plate:

- the breast will be tender, but in a different way then the leg meat. Also, it will have a crispy skin. What to pair with that, that won't either dominate the flavour of the duck/sauce to follow, or leave the skin as the only source of crispiness on the plate? (Crispiness is a BIG texture to play around with; it doesn't always necessitate deep-frying though, a good lesson to remember)

- the legs are going to be sublimely tender, but incredibly, densely rich from the confiture (note: confiture refers to a slow, very lengthy poaching of the legs in the duck's own rendered fat at very low temperatures following a day-long salt-curing to pull excess juices out of the legs; this process transfers a lot of fat into the meat of the duck, but also results in the legs being able to be submerged in said fat, allowed to cool, and be stored over the winter without the threat of the meat going skunky, thanks to the curing beforehand and the fact that oxygen cannot now reach the meat entombed beneath the fat); thus, you HAVE to serve something either very fresh-tasting, like a simple steamed green vegetable, or a something light and acidic to balance the fattiness of the duck leg, like some peeled orange slices, or both; as well, since I'm considered crispy texture on the one side of the plate, I'm free to consider much softer textures on the other side: soft silky duck leg, with....what?

- since this plate is going to be a duo of duck, both versions of duck have to complement one another, as do the garnishes for both "sides" of the plate - they'll ALSO have to work well together

- finally, the sauce is the tie that binds; how to flavour it, such that everything on the plate will be complemented by it?

This level of cuisine is not for novices, but the results that come from attempting to reach this level - "reach for the stars, and you may at least grasp the moon" - are well worth it. This perspective isn't really taught in culinary school, thus, my breakdown of my previous twelve years for you, the avid, salivating, insatiable consumer.

I decide to go with some crispy potatoes, cut in small cubes to reduce the need for a knife to enjoy the meal. I deep-fry these, but that isn't necessarily the only way to achieve the crispiness I'm looking for; a quick deepfry simply leaves the potatoes a blank slate, waiting for whatever flavour I hurl at them (in this case the sauce). To pair with the confiture of the legs, I decide on a halved Shanghai bok choy (a lovely young version of conventional bok choy). I will shred the leg meat (had I the time, I would have pulverized the meat into a makeshift cylindrical terrine - called a rillette - but my time was null at best for this meal), and nestle it inside the folds of a simply steamed choy.  I would have liked to pair this side of the duo with some pickled daikon radish, but again, my time was at a premium.

The stock made, it reduces incredibly slowly until it reaches the consistency of what most people consider a gravy's thickness; this is achieved through the evaporation of water from the stock and the concentration of extracted gelatin, collagen and elastin present from the carcass utilized (ask me about it if you want the skinny). I decide that a huge amount of ginger should be infused in the stock as it reduces, concentrating that flavour in the stock, to later be balanced by soy and a trace amount of honey.

(an aside: no savoury item I've ever consumed could not benefit more from the presence of some balancing sweetness. It doesn't have to TASTE sweet, it just needs to take the edge off of ONLY the presence of salt as the seasoning for a dish)

2. The Plating

 

Oh, so nice.

Here go the duck breasts in a straight up pan roast. You sear them low and slow in the pan, skin-side down to render the subcutaneous fat (this takes upwards of 7-10 minutes) and then turn them for a minute or two to finish the other side. Unless these were Magret duck breasts, which are upwards of 1-2lbs. a boob, these never need to be cooked inside an oven.

The confit:

Simply shredded, and warmed through in it's own fat and a touch of rice wine vinegar (as I didn't have time to pickle anything, I figured I'd subtly cut the fat directly at the source).

The breast roasted and rested for twenty minutes, sliced thin and waiting for good things to come. (resting your meast after it's cooked is your biggest game-winning ace up your sleeve; again, ask me about it some time.)

Fry your potatoes, and steam your bok choy. Arrange as above.

Array your sliced duck breast over the potatoes;

Then, scoot the confiture into the space provided.

Pansies are optional, but oh tho gay, and oh tho very pretty.

Finish with the sauce spooned around the plate so that every component can get a taste.

While this may seem overly complicated, it illustrates many principles I use in every single dish that passes me by on its way to a consumer. Break it down into its constituent parts, and ask for any clarification needed. I'm here to help.

luv,

s