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desperanceWhen Nico was a kid in Africa, his father would approach the carving-table, rub his hands together and cry, "Aha! Half-shares, I see!" - meaning one duck between two, for however many diners.
I am, as you know, readily susceptible to influence. For half my life, then, I have understood that to be the proper proportion. And have been supported in this by numerous of my textbooks, including the one that furnished the recipe from which this week's culinary adventures began.*
Here, then, in a kind of winsome tribute, is how to divide one duck between eight, and leave no one hungry.
First stuff your duck, with rice and dried fruits and nuts and chopped veggies and herbs and spices and such. Then roast it. While it's in the oven, distract your first foursome with olives, and deceive them with a soup - chilled cucumber and yoghurt, in this instance. Then carve half the duck and serve with lots of rice and dal and cabbage and chutney and such. When the duckmeatplate is almost bare, bring in the whole damn carcase and dump it in front of your guests with the carving-tools conveniently to hand, and murmur "Help yourselves..."
Which they will, but not extravagantly, because guests. They're not going to gnaw the bones bare. In fact they're not actually going to finish anything.
Next day, strip all the remaining meat off the carcase, and set the bones in the stockpot with veggies and herbs and so forth. That evening, next foursome: reheat what's left of the cabbage and dal, fry up the leftover rice with all the duckmeat and the leftover stuffing, and serve it all alongside some other distraction (in this instance, the leftover half of a chicken b'stilla). Reap more praise & gratitude, for having done almost no work at all; still have a little leftover duck'n'rice to munch on, day three. And all that lovely duckstock in the pot. If that goes to soup, I guess one duck feeds ten, yeah?
I'd still rather do half-shares, but, y'know. Thrift thrift Horatio, and all that.
In other news, the never-ending copyedit has been sent off, complete. I should probably do some real work to celebrate, but, y'know. I could read about T E Lawrence. That's almost work.
*Madhur Jaffrey's An Invitation to Indian Cooking, since you ask.**
**It's not really Madhur's fault, though. Jeannie furnished the duck.
I am, as you know, readily susceptible to influence. For half my life, then, I have understood that to be the proper proportion. And have been supported in this by numerous of my textbooks, including the one that furnished the recipe from which this week's culinary adventures began.*
Here, then, in a kind of winsome tribute, is how to divide one duck between eight, and leave no one hungry.
First stuff your duck, with rice and dried fruits and nuts and chopped veggies and herbs and spices and such. Then roast it. While it's in the oven, distract your first foursome with olives, and deceive them with a soup - chilled cucumber and yoghurt, in this instance. Then carve half the duck and serve with lots of rice and dal and cabbage and chutney and such. When the duckmeatplate is almost bare, bring in the whole damn carcase and dump it in front of your guests with the carving-tools conveniently to hand, and murmur "Help yourselves..."
Which they will, but not extravagantly, because guests. They're not going to gnaw the bones bare. In fact they're not actually going to finish anything.
Next day, strip all the remaining meat off the carcase, and set the bones in the stockpot with veggies and herbs and so forth. That evening, next foursome: reheat what's left of the cabbage and dal, fry up the leftover rice with all the duckmeat and the leftover stuffing, and serve it all alongside some other distraction (in this instance, the leftover half of a chicken b'stilla). Reap more praise & gratitude, for having done almost no work at all; still have a little leftover duck'n'rice to munch on, day three. And all that lovely duckstock in the pot. If that goes to soup, I guess one duck feeds ten, yeah?
I'd still rather do half-shares, but, y'know. Thrift thrift Horatio, and all that.
In other news, the never-ending copyedit has been sent off, complete. I should probably do some real work to celebrate, but, y'know. I could read about T E Lawrence. That's almost work.
*Madhur Jaffrey's An Invitation to Indian Cooking, since you ask.**
**It's not really Madhur's fault, though. Jeannie furnished the duck.