Fat Chance

On Sunday, we enjoyed a fine meal at Les Halles in NYC, where Sir ate duck-leg confit and almost fainted with joy. Through his chewing and slurping I was able to discern the adjectives 'unctuous,' 'gorgeous,' and 'amazing', but that was about all the sense I was able to get out of Sir until he was half-way through the dish and the initial thrill had subsided somewhat. At that point I was permitted a small taste. Sure enough, the duck was rich and delicious - crispy on the outside and melting within. I've only ever had confit prepared by others and shredded up in a cassoulet - seeing it in a big anatomically-correct section like that was a revelation. I was forced to admit, upon Sir's urgent enquiry about how the dish was made, that my knowledge of the cooking techniques of southwest France is a bit sketchy. 'Poached in fat' was about all I could tell him with any certainty. Clearly disappointed by my ignorance, Sir thoughtfully resumed his chomping and I resolved to research the matter when we got home.

Safe and sound back in my own kitchen, I went first to Julia Child, reasoning that she would provide the necessary recipe and background material and - hey presto - that would be that. Julia has this to say on Confit D'Oie (see Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol I, Index: 'Goose, Preserved'):

It can usually be bought in cans from one of the food-importing stores.

Horrors! My world-view was shifted pretty badly by this and I had to make myself a cup of Earl Grey to recover. Luckily, my cookbooks are on the Metro shelving next to the fridge and I spied two other French references while I was, rather shakily, getting the [organic] milk for my tea.

The first, The Taste of France by Robert Freson, is a yellowing reprint of a series of articles that appeared in the Sunday Times (London) about a zillion years ago. The book divides La France into culinary regions and then describes the cuisine du terroir of each in mouth-watering, eye-popping food-porn detail. In the section on Languedoc (where I have never been, alas), there are beaucoup references to cassoulet, langoustines, escargots, Roquefort, foie gras and, of course confit (note to self: must book a trip to this foody paradise ASAP). Turns out I was mostly right in my supposition: confit is what you get when your preserve large pieces of a goose or duck in its own fat.  'There seems to be no good reason,' writes the author (somewhat plaintively, in my opinion), 'why the technique should be used only in the southwestern quarter of France. It is an ideal method of preservation, and why it should be practiced in so restricted an area is a mystery.'

A mystery indeed - and a challenge if I ever heard one! I have decided, therefore, to postpone further gluten-free holiday baking experiments this weekend in order to introduce confit production to my small corner of Pennsylvania. I can get duck locally, so that is what I shall work with. Fortunately my second text, The Country Cooking of France by Anne Willan, includes a fairly detailed preserving procedure. I will not yet reveal how much duck fat I require to get started: suffice it to say, it's a shocking amount and I have an insufficient supply in the larder at this time. An appropriate tonnage has been duly ordered and should arrive on Friday, all being well with my friendly FedEx man. I will try to ignore the fact that each delectable tablespoon contains over 21% of the USDA recommended daily allowance of total fat.

Never mind. Could there be a more luscious and delightful way to spend the Saturday before Christmas than tending a pot of ducky deliciousness?

If all goes well, we should should have confit de canard ready to eat by the New Year.