To market, to market...

I wimped out. I wish I had a backbone.

I went to St. Lawrence Market in Toronto and did a ton of shopping today. 4 kinds of dijon. Should definitely last more than a month this time. 8 Jerusalem artichokes, 8 duck legs, thyme, organic grapes, a cup of large black Italian olives mixed with smaller black Portuguese olives (the recipe just says "black olives", and the Portuguese ones fit into the 250mL container better. Cross my fingers it's the right amount for the tapenade).

I had great plans to buy a bunch pf duck legs and then one whole duck. Then I'd skin it and render the fat and all would be well. Didn't work out that way. The man at the White House Meats counter was intimidating. I asked what duck pieces they had, and if they had whole ducks, and the answer came short and sweet, "Just duck legs." Okay...

...Fine.

I bought 8 duck legs. My roommate brought my forgotten duck fat when he came to town today, saving my confit. Thank you thank you thank you. But by now I was almost excited to render. It didn't seem so bad. All my motivational self-talk was working so well that I was almost reluctant to accept the duck fat I had initially bought instead of rendering my own.

Turns out they even had duck fat for sale at White House! Available in 250mL containers. they must supply the whole city (aka the 4 French restaurants...)! No point buying it since my Montreal duck fat arrived.

Then, as I walked away with my 8 legs (duck), I saw whole Muscovy ducks in the last display...lies from the butcher? Couldn't be.

This is not Montreal. My English is not so bad that this man hadn't understood my initial duck question. So they had ducks, but he sold me just legs. I thought for a minute about returning one of the pairs of legs and getting the whole duck, but then I gave up and kept walking toward olives. It was done. Purchased. Ca suffisait - It was enough. I will render no fat.

I am a miserably wimpy market-goer. I chickened/ducked out. I am a sorry excuse for a cook, but a stereotypical Canadian. Quick, efficient, overly polite. Some day I will stand up to butchers and clearly ask for whole ducks. I may even return purchased duck legs. Some day...

In the meantime, God bless roommates.

Rendering Duck Fat

I knew it would happen. I forgot the duck fat. It’s sitting in my freezer in Montreal and I am sitting on a train. Looks like I’ll be rendering some duck fat in Toronto. Fortunately there’s a meat place in St. Lawrence Market that specializes in wild game, and they seem to be the only place that sells duck. Hopefully that means they sell a lot of it and it’s very good, and hopefully this doesn’t just mean that the market for duck is very small. In Montreal’s Atwater market I walked into 5, yes 5, consecutive meat shops and found rendered duck fat in every single one. In most you could also buy pre-packaged duck confit, ready to be slipped in the oven for 15 minutes. The ultimate in luxury and convenience. In Toronto I’d be worried. They may not understand my need for 4 cups of duck fat. “Pork? Would I like some pork?” they’ll say. “It’s just as bad for you, if not worse, and that’s obviously what you’re after.” I am making neither rillettes nor paté. Give me no bacon, sausage or cured piglet, sir or madam.

I will cross my fingers and hope this butcher has duck wings. I will bargain with him. Certainly I’ll need to call in advance. What else is he possibly going to do with all his duck wings but give them to me? There aren’t enough French restaurants in the city with duck confit on the menu for him to trick me into spending buckets of money. In fact, I know that 500mL of duck fat costs exactly $5.00 in just about every store in Quebec, and I know that this is over-priced. Take out the labour cost and I’m looking at a lot of cheap duck wings.

These wings will be cooked for an excruciatingly long period of time over low heat. Then the fat will be sieved (I am currently traveling with my sieve…this I did remember. Go figure). Then this (hopefully) perfectly-rendered fat will be poured over the duck legs, which will have been sitting in the fridge covered in salt and other spices, waiting patiently all day to drown.

I will be glad I forgot the duck fat in Montreal because it will be such an educational experience. Oh please, please, please don’t mess this up, self.