duckfest

While having dinner at Francs the other day, L and I were tucking in to our salads with crispy bits of duck (and olives that were wrong, wrong, wrong) and reminiscing about a meal I had cooked a few years ago celebrating the Gascon tradition of all things fowl and, in particular, the many ways of eating delicious bits of duck that we had enjoyed in and around Toulouse. (Which isn't in Gascony, but being right next door obviously steals all their best ideas.) So, we plotted to have a duckfest, which has now been planned for next Saturday, and preparations commenced yesterday.

One (free range) 2 kilo duck was ceremoniously hacked to bits and made, with the help of the fat out of two tins of (this is where my principles meet the French way of doing things and I really don't want to know) confit de canard, into some pate, rillettes and a lot of stock. Now "all" I have to do is make a cassoulet and think of a suitable pud involving cherries and we're almost there.

Holly had some duck and was then absolutely furious that no more was forthcoming.