There’s something exotic and sexy to me about cooking duck at home. I don’t do it often, and usually when I do, it’s to roast a whole duck or two, the way my dad does at Thanksgiving. I almost always find myself drawn to ordering the duck at any high-end restaurant I visit, mostly just because of how infrequently I cook it at home. When I thumbed through my copy of S’Cook and found slabs of juicy duck breast with cherry compote staring back at me.
Ohhhh yeah, I thought to myself, using the same voice as the Kool-Aid Man. That is what I’m making. I imagined myself bursting through the walls of our kitchen, jolly and fat, holding two shimmering raw duck breasts. Of course, in that case, I’d probably also disappoint the crowds of sugar-amped kids waiting for their next hit of artificial sugary drink. Nothing to see here, folks — just a weird Asian woman holding two slabs of raw poultry.
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