Tonight a friend dropped by, with a cooler bag full of frozen organic chicken carcasses, duck fat and two pots of what he believes to be demi-glacé. He fell in love with woman from Istanbul and is following his heart to Turkey, where he will teach English for a year. That meant, amongst other things, that he had to clean out his freezer and as the man used to be a linecook at Canoe, and other Toronto fine dining establishments, it was quite the freezer.
So much so that I have no idea what to do with the bounty. My own freezer is overflowing, so I’ll either have to purchase a larger model, something that has been on the cards for quite some time, or get creative. Mr. Stephenson, are you in need of a tub of duck fat?
Dear Mr. Duess,
What fabulous fortune! Is this the fellow that I affectionately call, after a dish he brought to a party, “Duck Breast” (and if memory serves me, he refers to me as “flank steak” – a fateful naming evening).
We might take this opportunity to do a proper confit. I’m smoking bacons this weekend in the smokenator, we could perhaps pick up some ducks and make an afternoon of it.
Dreams of cassoulet.
Dreams of cassoulet indeed, especially with the cold and rainy summer we’ve been having.