Cooking The Whole Quack

Duck Ragu

I stopped by Ottamenelli and Sons in the West Village of New York City last week to buy a whole duck.  The white haired, old-timer butcher with his blood stained apron asked if I wanted him to cut it up.  No, I replied, I liked to do that sort of thing myself.  Looking me up and down in my springtime asparagus green skirt and cream cardigan I can understand why his eyebrows raised.  I was not dressed the part of home butcher.  “You must have some sharp knives,” the old timer said.  You bet I do, I shot back.  The old-timer smiled.  “Beware a woman with sharp knives,” he said to the man in line next to me, and handed over the duck. 

I like my knives, without them I wouldn’t have much use for a whole duck.  If I just bought the breasts and I’d get one dinner for a couple people.  Throw in the legs and I might have confit or the base for a rich ragu.  Give me the whole bird and I have visions of days of meals to come- seared duck breasts one night, molten braised legs another, fat trimmings rendered and reserved for roasted potatoes, and the flavor packed carcass just waiting to form the base of my next poultry stock.

Back home with the duck, out came the knives and off came the breasts.  Seared to a perfect medium rare I wasn’t interested in serving the breasts plain.  Instead, I sliced them paper thin and placed the duck on a bed of Vietnamese rice noodles with roasted peanuts, cilantro, lime, and mint with a sauce of tamarind, chilies, and fish sauce. 

Duck Breast with Vietnamese Vermicelli Salad

Next I went to work on the fat.  I cut as much of the skin and attached thick layer of fat as I could off the carcass and put in in a pot over medium low heat.  After about 30 minutes with barely any attention paid, the fat had melted away.  I strained that off and added to the reserved drippings from the duck breasts.  Purple potatoes were cubed and roasted with a healthy dose of the melted fat.  The rest went in a jar and into the refrigerator to be used in weeks to come.

Several days later it was time for the legs.  Onion, garlic, carrot and celery went in the clay pot with some fresh rosemary and a couple of bay leaves.  Reduced red wine, diced canned tomatoes, chicken stock, and the legs rounded out the sauce.  A couple of hours later I pulled the once tough now achingly tender meat off the bone and mixed it back into the pot.  Tossed with freshly cooked pasta it was a meal fit for a king, or at least four hungry adults.

As for the carcass, it is in the freezer in a large bag marked “duck bones” waiting to be defrosted some lazy Saturday when I feel like putting a pot on to simmer. 

One week.  One duck.  Many meals had and more still to come.  I might finish the old-timer’s sentence for him: Beware a woman with sharp knives, a whole duck is no match for her in the kitchen. 

Duck Ragu

Time: 2 hours

Yield: 4 servings

2 T. olive oil

1 medium onion

1 carrot

2 celery stalks

3 garlic cloves

2 T. minced rosemary leaves

2 bay leaves

1 cup red wine

2 duck legs

Salt

Pepper

2 cups diced canned tomatoes

1 cup chicken stock

1 lb. linguine

Parmesan cheese

Heat oil in a heavy pot over a medium flame.  Dice onion, peel and dice carrot, and dice celery.  Add the vegetables to the pot.  Saute for about ten minutes until softened.  Crush garlic and add to vegetables along with rosemary and bay leaves.  Saute for another two minutes.  Add wine and bring to a simmer.  Reduce wine by half.  Meanwhile season duck legs with salt and pepper.  Add tomatoes, duck legs, and chicken stock to the pot.  Bring to a simmer then reduce heat to medium low.  Put a lid on the pot and let simmer for 1.5 hours stirring occasionally, until duck meat is tender enough to fall off the bone.  Remove duck legs from the sauce.  Remove skin and any visible fat and discard.  Remove meat from bones and shred.  Before adding the meat back to the sauce use a small ladle to skim off any fat that has pooled on the surface.  Stir the meat back into the sauce and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Discard bay leaves.  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the pasta until just shy of al dente.  Add the pasta to the sauce with a bit of the pasta water.  Let pasta finish cooking in the sauce.  Serve with grated parmesan cheese.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

To Market, To Market to Buy a Fresh Pig Belly

Last week I spent several days up to my elbows in pig fat, loving every second of it.  It is not often I get to explore the lesser-used cuts of a pig such as the back fat and skin. 

The source of this delectable, well-bred pork was Sir Hamsalot, a swine raised by my friends Aline and Brian on their farm in rural Massachusetts.  Butchered one year ago, Sir Hamsalot now fills their freezer with a seemingly bottomless supply of pig parts- from bacon to pork shoulder.

With nose-to-tail cooking gaining popularity in restaurants, it is no small wonder that people are wanting a bit of that up-to-your-elbows-in-pork-fat experience at home, even if they can’t raise a pig like my friends with the farm.  And with that interest in harder to find meats and poultry on the rise, so is the availability of these parts at better butchers around the country.   

A New York Times piece a few weeks ago covered a range of city butchers, including my go-to: Dickson’s Farmstand Meats in Chelsea Market.  On any given day pork parts from bellies to cheeks to chops are ready to take home.  Game birds like guinea hens and quail are sometimes in stock but can always be special ordered, shipped in daily from a few Amish farmers in Pennsylvania.  Whatever meat piques my interest, I feel comfortable knowing that with Dickson’s no matter the type of meat, the animals are raised locally, allowed to roam free, and never receive hormones or antibiotics.  It's a difference from normal market fare that I can taste.

Living in San Francisco I made a habit of visiting Marina Meats on Chestnut Street.  This small storefront has a big focus on beef, short ribs ranking among my favorite cuts on offer.  Duck breasts are almost always in stock as is a wide range of local fish and seafood.  For the more intrepid cook, Marina Meats frequently gets a supply of fresh goat- racks, tenderloins, and ground goat meat all at the ready for some inspired cooking.

Around the holiday season I am frequently seeking out new ideas for celebratory meals in the form of a grand or unusual main courses.  In Los Angeles, Huntington Meats at the Farmer’s Market on Third and Fairfax was my go-to for all things specialty meat.  Huntington’s regularly carries beef from Harris Ranch, Kurobuta pork, Kobe beef, and dozens of sausages blended and stuffed in house daily.  They can also order in specialty items, like they did for me the year I made venison racks for Christmas dinner.  And this is probably the easiest place (and one of the only) to place orders for suckling pig.  Just do it soon.  Last year Huntington’s available pigs had all been ordered a month before Christmas. 

Not everyone can raise a Sir Hamsalot, but for those who live in big cities, they need only make their way to a good butcher for a taste of all those delicious pig parts and unusual meats hard to find in normal markets.  For those who live where meat only comes on Styrofoam trays suffocating in plastic wrap, demand more of your store.  If you are going to eat meat without getting up to your elbows in it, you owe it to yourself and the animal to eat the very best quality you can find. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell