Duck

Good freezer management makes it so much easier to get away with two-timing. When the freezer door won’t close, we know it’s time for a couple bags of sauerkraut for an Alsatian choucroute (pronounced shoo-KROOT) garni. A French peasant dish from the Alsace region, choucroute garni means sauerkraut “garnished” with an abundance of pork products, or occasionally goose or duck. It’s the perfect freezer purge for using up all manner of cheater pork plus any sausages, bacon, or ham bones. Whatever you find in there will pretty much work with this dish. Choucroute (the sauerkraut) is traditionally slow-baked in a heavy casserole with slab bacon or a ham hock, carrots, onion, garlic, apple, and wine or beer. The seasoning mix depends on the cook (or the pantry), but usually includes juniper berries, bay leaves, cloves, black or white pepper, even cumin and coriander seeds. The sausages, ham, and other meats are added near the end of cooking. Get the bagged or jarred sauerkraut for the freshest taste. While the sauerkraut turns French in the oven, thaw the trove of frozen meats. A fruity, dry Alsatian Riesling is traditional for both cooking and drinking. French and German beers are also a good match. To complete the meal, add boiled potatoes and a green salad.

If you’re a fan of dark-meat chicken, move up to Five-Star Duck Legs. The great thing is that it’s getting much easier to find fresh duck breasts and legs, not just rock-hard frozen whole ducks that take a week to thaw. Pick one part, because breasts and legs are complete opposites. While the breasts are best cooked like a medium-rare steak, the legs are better slow-cooked like barbecue. Simple foil pouches make the whole procedure easy to manage. Duck legs reheat beautifully and take well to a brush-on glaze at the end.

If you’ve never had grilled duck breasts, you’re in for a revelatory surprise. The contrasts are striking: the smoke of the grill against the richness of the duck fat, the juicy meat capped by crispy skin. At the restaurant, we buy Liberty Farms breasts (see Sources), which I have found superior to others in taste and texture. They raise a variety of duck called Pekin, a smaller, more compact bird (a single breast is perfect for one person) with a brighter, more delicate flavor and feel. You may have more luck finding Muscovy duck breasts, which are heftier, more steaklike. If you use Muscovy, you’ll only need four breasts to feed six people. Grilling duck breasts requires some attention. The fat from under the skin will inevitably drip into the fire, causing flare-ups, which can blacken the breasts if you’re not careful. If a flare-up occurs, use tongs to snatch the breasts off the grill for a few seconds, then return them once the flames have subsided. You may need to move them around the grill almost continuously as the fat renders out. The reward for this vigilance, however, is perfection—crisp golden brown skin and plump, succulent meat. An easier option is to sauté them in a cast-iron pan over medium-low heat, still skin side down, taking your time to render the fat from under the skin. Once the skin is crisp, which can take longer than you might expect, turn the breast over and cook a few more minutes, until medium-rare.

One particularly chilly weekend (yes, we have those here every once in a while), I needed a dish that would be opulent and soul-satisfying. At first, duck braised in red wine came to mind. But, I wanted something even more intense and a little bit sweet, and I arrived at Banyuls, a fortified wine from the south of France. Extracted from grenache grapes grown on the rocky, terraced vineyards that overlook the sea, Banyuls is classically paired with chocolate and has deep notes of chestnut, mocha, and dried fruit. As the duck and Banyuls cooked together slowly in the oven, the deeply concentrated wine permeated the meat and produced a rich ruby broth. A gratin of turnips and potatoes dotted with prunes and baked with cream proved the perfect companion for the tender, falling-apart duck bathed in crimson juices.

Like a lamb shoulder or veal shank, duck legs require a long, slow braise (in fat in this case, rather than stock) to break down their sinew and make them succulent and tender. Choose an earthenware dish or a roasting pan that will hold the legs snugly (the legs should just fit in the dish, without overlapping). Four cups of duck fat sounds like a lot, but don’t worry, most of it is left behind in the pan, and you can use it over and over again, as long as it’s strained well and kept chilled or frozen. You can also store the duck legs in the fat.

If you want to impress at a dinner party, this is the dish to make. The secret ingredient? Jordan almonds, those impossibly hard candies handed out at weddings. They turn into a gorgeous caramelized crust on the roasted duck breast. Simply cooked baby turnips make an elegant accompaniment.

My alsatian upbringing and my time in Asia often merge in my cooking. This take on classic Cantonese roasted duck pairs beautifully with Sweet and Sour Cabbage (page 193). I love when the soy-infused duck juices run into the tender vegetables.

The fancy, classic French flavors of duck a l’orange are showcased in this tasty ball. Because duck is one of the fattiest birds, it makes for especially tender meatballs. Ground duck may be hard to find, so ask your butcher to grind duck breasts and thighs, along with the skin. Serve with Sauce Vierge (page 65) or Mushroom Gravy (page 63).

On my brief sojourn in the Toulouse area, I traveled to many local villages and towns acclaimed for their charcuterie. Among them was Castelnaudary, a small village built of stone, close by the fairy-tale-like medieval castle of Carcassonne. The castle was a thrill; even more so was the cassoulet I enjoyed in Castelnaudary, known as the cradle of cassoulet. I mustered the nerve to ask the chef what his secret was. He graciously shared his version of “the cassoulet secret”: The kind of beans you use is crucial. They should be lingot beans, also called white kidney beans or cannellini beans, or coco beans, which resemble slightly elongated navy beans. Both are sweetly buttery and cook up soft and tender enough to soak up juices, but still hold their shape. Then, the beans must be allowed to cool completely in their cooking liquid before assembling the cassoulet. Overnight is best. Stuffed whole duck legs (drumstick and thigh combination) make a delectable sausage star for a faux cassoulet. To sidestep the lengthy process of curing the duck overnight then braising it in duck fat to make confit, the whole legs are sprinkled with a salt and herb seasoning and refrigerated for a few hours to allow the seasonings to imbue. The sausage is then stuffed under the thigh skin, making a single package of sausage and duck meat.

Flavor pairing comes naturally when using products that come from the same region, and Lakewood’s assistant winemaker, John Damian, developed this recipe to prove it. The secret to a chicken dish that he guarantees will awaken sleeping taste buds is the combination of fragrant, flavorful local peaches and just enough residual sugar in the wine to give the marinade a lift.

Even though places like St. Hubert Rotisserie have been serving the “hot chicken sandwich” since the 1930s, no factual proof exists that it originated in Quebec. Our only proof is that we haven’t seen it outside the province, whereas inside, it’s a weekly staple. It’s basically hot, shredded chicken, served with galvaude (peas and gravy, usually a poutine variation) and two pieces of white bread. In this recipe, you have four meat options: pork, duck, rabbit, or chicken. They’re all hot and they’re all delicious. For pork, use the pulled pork recipe in Scallops with Pulled Pork (page 30). For the other meats, there are three steps: (1) cure it, (2) smoke it, and (3) confit it. If you don’t have a smoker can, you will need to dig up an empty 1-quart (1-liter) tin can for step 2. If you live in the States, D’Artagnan (www.dartagnan.com) will deliver the duck fat you need in step 4 to your door. If not, use bacon fat. The gravy is the perfect clone of the local poulet barbecue sauce. It’s not a hot sauce, but it’s also not that thickish gravy that tastes like spinach and baking soda. It’s zingier, a cross between BBQ sauce and gravy. It is classic on these sandwiches, but it’s also good, minus the bread, on duck, pork, poutine, or yes, chicken.

This is the kind of dish that used to be prepared tableside in Montreal chophouses. A few restaurants still do tableside crêpes Suzette, steak tartare, and specialty coffees. We get excited like kids on Halloween when we see that cart rolling toward us. It’s tough to do ourselves because of the size of Joe Beef, but we hope it comes back in a big way (and not in the “lavender and tomato essential oils being pumped over my table from a Provençal print balloon as we eat lamb and the waiter tickles our nose and ears with said lamb’s tail” way).

When we opened Joe Beef, we made all kinds of promises, oaths of sorts: no cranberry juice, we would wash dishes ourselves, we would stay open on Monday nights. We also said we would always have (at least) one breakfast item on the dinner menu. Of course, we are closed Mondays and never do the dishes ourselves, but we do always have one breakfast item on the menu. Oh, and we still don’t serve cranberry juice. We see foie gras the same way we see skateboarding: we had a phase, like most everyone. But then it stopped, and now it’s here and there and we enjoy it in small doses. If you come to town and want to feast on foie gras everything, make a pit stop at Au Pied de Cochon; they are good friends and do it better than anyone. Our favorite way to serve foie gras is with a breakfast-sausage patty or with peameal bacon, a well-peppered over-easy egg, and an English muffin. Add a dash of maple mustard and you’re happy, whether it’s 7:00 A.M. or 7:00 P.M. (You’ll have plenty of mustard left over, but that’s okay. It’s good with everything from salmon to corn dogs.) Remember, when you sear foie gras, be generous with salt, use a good pan, and most important, be prepared for a smoke show. Work fast and have a tray and tongs at hand before you start.

This dish, which calls for a whole fresh duck foie gras, has been on our menu since day one. We like it with a thin layer of our Madeira Jelly poured on top, but almost any compote, jam, or jelly can be served alongside.

This take on coq au vin has it all: tender, moist chicken, flavorful root veggies, and an incredibly rich sauce; to top it off, it’s a one-pot meal. Serve with a simple garlicky green salad and lots of steamed white rice to soak up all the chicken broth goodness. Duck legs are a great substitute for the chicken legs, too. You’ll get the best results if you salt the legs the day before you cook, but it’s not essential. If you are short on time, skip the salting and jump right in—just season the legs well with salt and pepper before you brown them.

The plump and pristine Belgian endive from California Vegetable Specialties (see page 91) always impresses the Workshop chefs, and they come up with some novel uses for it. Chef James Boyce, a 2008 participant, made “choucroute” with the sliced endive, braising it with onion, bacon, and apples as if it were cabbage. He paired it with seared duck breasts, but you could serve it with a pork chop and boiled potatoes instead.

The Liberty Ducks we get from Sonoma County Poultry (see page 147) are fed an all-natural diet and allowed to mature for several more weeks than most commercial ducks. As a result, they develop more flavor. The meaty duck legs, braised slowly with aromatic vegetables, make a robust pasta sauce similar in richness and depth to a classic bolognese. Brian shreds the tender duck meat after it’s braised and adds chopped Tuscan kale to the sauce to introduce some fresh garden flavor.

This especially satisfying one-pan dish is delicious served with soft polenta, mashed potatoes, or shell beans. Good choices for the green olives are unpitted Lucques or Picholines.

This is the best burrito you will ever taste in your entire life, and that’s no exaggeration. To “confit” is to preserve the duck meat by first curing it in salt, then cooking and storing it in its own fat. This is one of those things that I eat only on occasion, for obvious reasons, but look forward to tremendously. Take into consideration that the duck must be prepared a day ahead—but believe me, it’s worth the extra effort. (You could also buy duck confit already made to cut the prep time way down.) I must confess to you that, on occasion, I’ve used lard from a local butcher when I don’t have enough duck fat (which I buy at Whole Foods), with the response from my uninformed family usually being, “Marcela, the duck tastes different today. It tastes . . . better.”

Cassoulet in forty minutes or less is heresy, of course, but even “real” cassoulet was designed as a bean stew containing whatever meat, preferably fatty and flavorful, was available to throw in. That’s the spirit here, too. Although the pork tenderloin need not be browned before further cooking, the sausage benefits from a quick browning, definitely worth the five-minute effort. If you can get duck confit, just brown it lightly on both sides, adding both it and its fat to the stew in place of the duck breast.

Here’s a simple procedure for duck in which you first roast the bird and then braise it briefly. It keeps even the breast meat moist while making the legs ultratender. There are many options for the braising medium, but none provides more complementary flavor with less work than sauerkraut. The result is a moist bird with a sauce that doubles as a side vegetable. Although the cooking takes some time, you can practically ignore the duck as it roasts; if the oven temperature is moderate, it will brown more or less automatically and render its fat at the same time.

Unless you’ve made your own duck confit, you may never have cooked duck legs by themselves; but in many ways they’re superior to both duck breasts and whole birds. They’re quite lean, and just a quick trimming of the excess fat is all that’s necessary. And, given proper cooking—that is, long, slow cooking—they become fork-tender and richly flavorful, reminiscent of some of the “lesser” cuts of beef and pork, like brisket and cheek. Finally, it’s easy enough to cook enough legs for eight—which is hardly the case with whole duck!

What turns people off to roasting duck—its thick layer of subcutaneous fat—is actually its best feature, one that makes it a nearly foolproof dish. The fat keeps the meat juicy even when it’s well done—a distinct advantage because the breast is best medium-rare, but the legs must be cooked through, or nearly so, to be palatable. In fact, duck is so difficult to roast badly that all experienced cooks seem to claim their procedure is the best. Having tried many methods, I can say that the results are all about the same. So I usually rely on the one presented here, which I believe is the easiest way to guarantee a succulent but beautifully browned bird. One challenge: a roast duck can easily be finished by two people. If you want to serve four, roast two or plan on a lot of side dishes.

This is a simple smoking technique that doesn’t take long, though if your aluminum foil seal is not tight, you run the risk of really smoking up your kitchen. So the first time you try it, pick a day that’s warm enough to open the windows and have a fan handy. (I don’t say this to dissuade you, but from very real experience. I do love this recipe, and it works well; but sometimes unfortunate events occur!) The duck is best cut up and served as part of a larger meal of Chinese food or as part of a multinational buffet or used in stir-fries. Chicken is even easier; you can skip the initial steaming if you like.