Healthy Place to Die by Peter King

Author:Peter King
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780312242695
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2000-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I WAS ON DUTY once more at ten o’clock in the morning. Again, I was obliged to follow the schedule set out by Carver Armitage, as the various presentations had been planned so that a wide range of foods and cooking styles could be covered without duplication. Carver had selected roast duck with orange as this morning’s dish.

The conference room, modified with portable equipment, was full, and I noticed Elaine Dunbar in the second row. Tim Reynolds was there, this time with a different lady, a statuesque redhead. Marta was there and so was Helmut Helberg. Karl Wengen was present, Gunther Probst came in, and Millicent Manners entered at the last minute. The indefatigable Caroline de Witt introduced me.

“This is one of the most famous dishes in the world,” I began, “and it can be eaten in a different version in every country. It’s a national dish in France, where they claim that the Rouen and the Nantais ducks are the best due to the crossing of domestic ducks with wild drake. Florentines point out that the duck is included in their cookbooks of the fifteenth century. In England, the Aylesbury duck is considered the best, whereas in the USA, the canvasback duck is popular but the Long Island duckling reigns supreme. It has a distinguished heritage, for in the nineteenth century one of the first Yankee Clippers brought nine Peking ducks from China. Millions of Long Island ducks are descended from that stock.”

On the bench in front of me was a fine bird. “This is a duck with Nantes ancestry, although it is from Alsace. It weighs four and a half pounds. Heavier than that, a duck begins to get tough.” I pulled the bird toward me and took a long, sharp knife. “First, I’m cutting off the head and the feet … now I’m plucking the feathers. I’m removing the wishbone, greasing inside with butter, sprinkling with salt, and pricking the skin so that some of the fat can escape.”

I put the bird into a roasting pan—“the smallest possible,” I advised. “Meanwhile, some butter has melted in this pan. I’m adding some sugar and pouring it over the bird. The oven is preheated to three hundred and fifty, and I’m putting the dish in. Some prefer to braise on top of the stove. Either way, it will take one and a half to two hours.”

I indicated the makings of the orange sauce: the peel boiled in a small amount of water, the juice with a little Curaçao, several slices, a few spoonfuls of bitter orange marmalade, some tarragon vinegar, roux, and chicken stock.

“The efficient staff prepared a similar bird and put it in the oven an hour and a half ago,” I said, “so let’s see how it is.” It was nicely browned, and I removed it while I added some meat stock, some flour, and some sherry to the juices in the pan. I heated for a few minutes, stirring constantly. I put the bird back in the pan and added the orange sauce, heated quickly, and put the bird on a large heated plate.

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