Le mallard imaginaire
Dec. 14th, 2009 09:24 pmSo this damn duck has been hanging in my bathroom all weekend, with the door blocked off against marauders. Who have been sitting all weekend outside the bathroom door, plotting together. At night I have heard sinister scratchings, but to no avail.
So this morning, nine o'clock found me out in the back yard, plucking the duck into the compost bin. With the boys in the little window, watching intently.
I chopped off head and wings, drew out the pluck, kept heart and liver and discarded the rest. Not into the boys' bowls, because I didn't know if it would do them any good...
Then, into the slow cooker went red cabbage and onion and apple and the duck, a splash of oil and a splash of red wine vinegar, a little salt and pepper. I went into town and left it to work its gentle heat-thing all day; came home this evening and put the duck into a deeply hot oven for twenty minutes just to crisp up the skin as a contrast to the tender flavourful flesh, while I chopped up and fried the liver and heart and spread it on toast as an accompaniment. Om nom, if I may say so, nom.
So this morning, nine o'clock found me out in the back yard, plucking the duck into the compost bin. With the boys in the little window, watching intently.
I chopped off head and wings, drew out the pluck, kept heart and liver and discarded the rest. Not into the boys' bowls, because I didn't know if it would do them any good...
Then, into the slow cooker went red cabbage and onion and apple and the duck, a splash of oil and a splash of red wine vinegar, a little salt and pepper. I went into town and left it to work its gentle heat-thing all day; came home this evening and put the duck into a deeply hot oven for twenty minutes just to crisp up the skin as a contrast to the tender flavourful flesh, while I chopped up and fried the liver and heart and spread it on toast as an accompaniment. Om nom, if I may say so, nom.