Duck Confit, Part 2

I woke up yesterday absolutely content to spend an entire day cooking a few duck legs in their own fat.  In fact, I woke up early, anxious to get started.  The only problem was, I was lacking enough duck fat.  At Fairway, when I bought my legs for Part 1, I purchased three plastic dishes of it, the most I could convince myself to spring for--when I handed the cashier my credit card I shut my eyes, as they clocked in at five dollars each for 7 oz.  I was in complete denial that I'd be required to spend any more.  Since when was this cassoulet dish designed for peasants?  My first steps in acquiring one ingredient, the duck confit, had set me back close to thirty dollars.  And I was just getting around to admitting that I did not, indeed, have enough duck fat at all.  When it cooks it must be completely covered by fat.

So I strapped on some shoes and a scarf, braving the frigid winds that began sending gusts up my pant legs.  Putting confident faith in my Brooklyn neighborhood's multitude of butchers from an Italian immigrant history, I set off to remedy the Duck Fat Problem and gather the rest of the ingredients for the cassoulet while I was at it.

Cassoulet always has some kind of pork in it, whether it's belly or shoulder or some other humble cut.  With that in mind, the Esposito Pork Store on Court St., quite a famous institution, seemed like a good place to start.  Curing sausages hang from the windows.  There is a giant fiberglass pig wearing a chef's hat outside, for those who are illiterate.  I stepped inside and had a sample of spicy salami, while I waited for a stout Italian woman to finish ordering.  I was intimidated, wanting to seem cool and knowledgeable in front of these fast-talking Italian experts in pork trade, as if all my life I'd been ordering random parts of the pig--those parts that only in-the-know chefs are familiar with.   I rattled off my order too quickly.

"I'll need, um, a pound of rind, two hocks, and six sausages please."

"You want two pork chops?"

"Uh, no no, pork hocks."

"Hocks, you mean knuckles?"

"Yeah, of course."  I had no idea if that was correct.  "Two knuckles."

"You got it boss."

While I looked around at the fresh pastas, imported tomatoes, and various prepared foods, the guy got my order together.  Then I noticed that he'd put a pound of ground pork into my bag.

"Um, what's that?"

The guy, busy but terribly patient, looked at me strangely.  "This is your pound of ground."

I thought for a minute.  "No, not Pork Grind, Pork Rind."

"You're telling me you want a pound of pig skin?"

"That's right."

"That's a lot of skin."  I nodded, paused.  He nodded back, paused, keeping eye contact. We had a nice moment.  "Sixteen twenty-six."  I paid swiftly, adjusted my scarf, and faced the cold again.

The next problem was this elusive Duck Fat.  Pinning my hopes on a butcher shop carrying this hedonistic specialty, I walked over to Smith st headed for the excellent Los Paisanos.  On the way I dug around in the bag wanting a look at the pig skin.  But something smelled like a campfire.   Uh, oh.  The knuckles aren't fresh--they're brown and smoked.  Larouse Gastronomique warned me very explicity in the entry on cassoulet to never use smoked meat of any kind.  There was no way I'd go showing my face back to Esposito, not after I'd had the nice nod-and-nod-back rapport.

Thankfully, Las Paisanos not only had frozen pork hocks in the basement, but a giant container of duck fat, too, from the Hudson Valley Foie Gras producers, weighing 1.75 pounds for fifteen dollars.  Still no outrageous bargain, but half the price of the tiny containers from D'Artagan I'd bought up until then.  And once you have the duck fat for confit, you can use it over and over until it gets too salty.  I was now officially outfitted to begin the confit.

Duck Confit, Part 2

It turned out that, for my 6 legs totaling 3 pounds, the large contained on the right (1.75 pounds) was the perfect amount for the confit.  I threw my three D'Artagan containers in the freezer for another time.

• 6 duck legs (about 3 pounds) salted and spiced, cured in the refrigerator for 24-36 hours (see previous post.)  36 hours is about the maximum, otherwise it will become too salty.
• 1.75 pounds Duck Fat

Remove the curing legs from the refrigerator and drain the pink liquid that will have collected in the bottom of your dish.  Using a few paper towels, dry the legs and garlic cloves very thoroughly and place back into the dish--but wash it out first.  In the meantime, preheat your oven to 275 degrees.

They should fit snugly, otherwise the fat will spread out too much and won't cover them.  If you have a deeper dish you could stack them, but no more than two on top of eachother.  This might work well in a small dutch oven.  Place the duck fat into a saucepan and, over low heat, render (melt) it until clear.

Once the fat is completely rendered, pour it over your legs, making sure they're covered.  Taking the cue from Anthony Bourdain's recipe (this confit recipe has been following Madeleine Kamman but I'm incorporating other ideas), I stuck 4 sprigs of fresh thyme and 1 of fresh rosemary around the legs.

This recipe has the legs cooking at 275 for 2 or 2 1/2 hours.  Bourdain has it at 375 for an hour (he covers it in tin foil) and Thomas Keller, Mr. Absurdly Over-the-Top, suggests 190 degrees for ten hours.  That's like taking the dish to Arizona and hanging around for a couple days.  Most ovens have a minimum of 250--you could do it over low heat on the stove, but I figured the 2 hour method would be sufficiently authentic.  So don't cover it, slide it into the oven, and cook it for 2 hours.  The legs are doing something between braising and deep frying, I guess.  Watch the garlic cloves, which are a nice measure of the progress--when they're a rich, deep brown, you're done.  Don't let them burn.

Let the dish cool for awhile on the countertop--mine was bubbling furiously when it came out.  Once it's cooled enough to handle, using a combination of tongs and hands, twist out the smaller of the two bones--not the one that sticks out like a drumstick.  Be fragile, because it's delicate.  This is a good chance to sample a piece of meat.  You will be absolutely blow away.  But I imagine you could put a piece of rubber into that fat with garlic and herbs, and all would be swell.

I put two legs in a smaller dish to store long term (this thing will last in the back of the fridge for months--the flavor keeps developing) and kept four for the upcoming cassoulet.  If you're going to save it in the fridge for a long time, make sure a layer of fat above the legs is at least an inch, preferably more.  But you should do some research about this, because you have to make sure there aren't meat juices in there (they collect on the bottom of the dish when you're cooking it), which can spoil.  If you don't want to worry about that, just make sure you eat it in the next month or so.

To store, let the whole thing cool to room temperature, then cover it with plastic wrap, pressing it all the way up to the top of the fat so there's a minimal amount of air.  If you want, you can use a jar instead, but be careful because the meat is fragile.  Cover it with foil (you want the meat to enjoy a nice dark environment) and put in the back of the fridge.

When you want to use it, which I'll write about in a couple weeks, you apparently pull it out, let it come to room temperature, pull it out of the fat, scrape off the excess, and crisp the skin up in a nonstick skillet (skin-side down) or under a broiler.  The crispy skin is the triumph of duck confit.  But I'll experiment with all that sometime later.  For now, it's time to use that roll of pig skin I just bought for the cassoulet.  Check back tomorrow!

Tagged as: Duck, Duck Confit, Duck Fat, Pork, Pork Skin