Duck fat rivals pork fat.
In the summer of 1997, I first became aware of Emeril Lagasse. A friend of mine loved strong coffee and loved to cook. I had never heard of this now famous chef, but my friend was already a fan. And perhaps rightly so.
At a chef's convention, Emeril was quoted as saying, as if it were the slogan for the next season's fashion trend, "Pork fat rules!"
Who could argue with that? And who would say that is a fleeting trend? Those are words to live by.
Shortly after reading this quote in the local paper, my friend and I purchased a truck-load of cinder blocks, a long and hefty piece of rebar, some steel wire, and lots of charcoal. Oh, and a decent-sized hog from a local farmer.
Hank Williams, Jr., used to sing about how country boys can survive, and how his rowdy friends came over to roast a pig in the ground. We couldn't dig a pit, so we made one above ground. The landlord was not too pleased with the remains of our pig roast. Then again, he didn't taste that pig.
Tonight for Christmas dinner I made my first duck. It was not my first time to enjoy duck, but it was my first time to prepare it myself. A recipe from Julia Childs, appropriately embellished with butter inside the duck and out, contributed to a medium-rare, delectable success. In closing out this wonderful day, I would like to affirm, for the record, a simple truth: duck fat abides.
