Making Duck Confit

I'd I'd be curious to know how many people still preserve fat ducks for the winter months now that every butcher makes it in-house and every supermarket sells it in cans (including one I fantasize about that hold a dozen legs). 

A few weeks ago, in the Mirepoix depot-vente (bric-a-brac consignment store) I picked up one of the traditional tall, narrow terracotta pots used to hold duck confit. The going rate for these is five euros and there are plenty around. At the same time,  fat, pale duck legs seemed to be everywhere, along with fat duck wings, fat duck necks, and fat duck carcasses, all by-products of foie gras farming. 

I bought three seriously overweight legs at the butcher's stall in the halles in Lavelanet on Friday, salted them overnight, and simmered them gently on Saturday. All the recipes I've read say that the legs must be covered in fat. Even though I've been banking it in the fridge ever since we got back here at the start of November, there still wasn't enough. Little stashes had accumulated at the rear of the fridge so I added those, then scooped the top layer off a half-emptied can of confit. It was rather like being a kid again, and feeling down the sides of the sofa and inside coat pocket for enough spare change to buy a bus ticket. 

The shots, in order, are of the duck end of the butcher's stall, the legs at the salting stage, and the fat at the still liquid point with the duck, now in its pot, completely immersed in it. 

Another Use for Duck Fat

Everywhere is swimming in duck at the moment. This is the big foie gras season. Fat livers make fat ducks which means lots of duck fat. This is one of my favourite ways to get my daily allowance. You find these confited chicken livers in the cooler at the supermarket. Usually, I make a big salad of frisée and chopped onion with a fairly acerbic dressing, then crisp and warm the chicken livers in the fry pan to put on top of the salad at the last moment. Nice with fried potatoes too and I'm playing around with the idea of cooking them with chopped onion, garlic and herbs and whizzing them into a paté

Platters for the Barbecue

It's good to know exactly where your meat comes from. This sign stands outside a butcher's shop in a shopping mall in Pamiers. It tells potential customers that the steaks, chops and roasts are all from local animals. Here are their photos and their owners' names--Mr. Fauré and Mr. Soula--to prove it. 

Some of the cuts sold here will be ideal à griller. French people are as nuts about cooking hunks of protein over charcoal as any other culture. It took Peter a while to get the knack of using French charcoal which he now uses along with vine clippings, either bought or from our own vine. 

Tonight, a friend who lives near Beziers is staying with us. Earlier today, we bought a "plateau" of meats: a mix of merguez, Toulouse sausage, pre-impaled pork kebabs and slices of pork belly. Included with the meat was a little sachet of mixed herbs to sprinkle over the meats before they went on the grill. 

Timings were detailed on the label. A little longer for the kebabs, a little less for the pork belly, the sausages somewhere in the middle. While Peter was grilling, I heated up some duck fat, chopped a garlic clove into it and browned some potatoes I'd steamed this afternoon. For a salad, I sliced the last of the heirloom tomatoes. Dark crimson inside, this one was big enough to do the three of us.