September 2nd, 2008

The gentleman is always properly dressed

My friends, my habits, my family, they mean so much to me.

Ok, so it seems that the preparation of duck confit is, like many things of its ilk, remarkably simple. That said, I am having the devil of a time not mucking about with the making. The duck got to sit for 24 hours coated in salt and herbs, and is now poaching in a pot full of rendered duck fat. I want to touch it.

Well, really, I want to worry it. I want to take temperatures and make sure that the meat is still completely covered and just see what's happening in the pot that's living in our up-to-now-unused oven. It's cooking, see, and the waiting's the thing. Six to ten hours of it. Six to ten hours of anticipation bordering on impatience. First times are hard.

On some level, I know that once this is finished - even if the duck is tough and stringy or otherwise thoroughly unpalatable - I'll eventually become comfortable enough with this as I have brewing or curing bacon or anything else I've been tinkering with. The funny thing, the thing that has me going "huh" as I'm in the middle of this, is that I am able to let it happen. The familiar assumptions that I'm doing it all wrong are still there, but I'm doing it. One step at a time, I'm doing it.

You have no idea.