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This weekend featured the story of a little duckling who found a new home - our bellies.
Yesterday, to my surprise and pleasure, the supermarket had duckling for sale. We snapped one up and brought it home. Then I realized that not only had I never cooked duckling before, or seen it cooked anywhere but a restaurant, I didn't have any plans or ingredients to cook it with.
Thus began creativity.
I made a dry rub from mostly ginger and pepper, and a handful of other random things - cinnamon, salt, curry powder, garlic, a little thyme. I put Ducky in the oven with the seasonings rubbed into the skin. Then I went on a quest through the kitchen. I found a one-serving bottle of leftover strawberry/chardonnay wine cooler stuff, and a nectarine. I poured a little of the wine in the roasting pan under Ducky, and made a glaze out of the rest of the wine, pureed nectarine, and more ginger and pepper.
Oh, so good. So incredibly tasty and good.
I am inordinately proud of my improvised duck recipe.
The big adventure for the weekend involved an expedition to the Village.
Saturday we had friends over for lunch and then went on an adventure. Some gothic/riot grrl/bellydancing troupe had decided to hold a "Festival of Dreams" in the Village. So we decided to go take a look. Well, we took the PATH to World Trade - but most of the subway stops on the 4-5 were closed for some reason. So we ended up walking. Really long walk.
Anyway, we got there and it was this sad little set of booths set up around a square. They were selling fairly random things - a photo booth, incense, bat wings, bad jewelry, velvet capes...There was supposed to be some kind of performance. We didn't see anything, and wandered off to find some much needed water. We stumbled on a playground that had misters that we ran through (brutally, brutally hot weekend in NYC). Refreshed from our little shower and fortified with bottled water, Coke, and band-aids from a corner drugstore, we returned.
There was indeed a performance going on in the square! Ha ha! We had not walked in vain!
...celebration had come too early, perhaps. The performers were a man and a woman dressed in pseudo-Ancient-Egyptian clothing featuring a lot of cheap shiny gold fabric. The man read some kind of religious invocation/spoken word piece that seemed to imply they worshipped Ancient Gods that they Egyptians themselves have since abandoned. The woman, meanwhile, waved her golden fabric "wings" with great intensity.
They were followed by a singer hailed as the "breakout artist of the millenium". She did a Indian-hip hop fusion thing. Not too bad, if you like the style, but it seemed sad that the "breakout artist of the millenium" was stuck singing on a bad sound system in a park while the audience she kept telling to "wave your hands in the air" slowly drifted away.
After that, they decided to take a little break, and we decided to seek a bench. We'd come to the conclusion we should leave soon anyway when a "traditional bard" came to the mike. And announced that he was going to tell us a story in "traditional bardic" style. A story of..."The Tell-Tale Heart".
Rather than listen to a man dressed like a Ren Faire reject try to convince us that Edgar Allen Poe was suitable material for Celtic storytellers, we decided to go home.
Still, it was certainly amusing.
Yesterday, to my surprise and pleasure, the supermarket had duckling for sale. We snapped one up and brought it home. Then I realized that not only had I never cooked duckling before, or seen it cooked anywhere but a restaurant, I didn't have any plans or ingredients to cook it with.
Thus began creativity.
I made a dry rub from mostly ginger and pepper, and a handful of other random things - cinnamon, salt, curry powder, garlic, a little thyme. I put Ducky in the oven with the seasonings rubbed into the skin. Then I went on a quest through the kitchen. I found a one-serving bottle of leftover strawberry/chardonnay wine cooler stuff, and a nectarine. I poured a little of the wine in the roasting pan under Ducky, and made a glaze out of the rest of the wine, pureed nectarine, and more ginger and pepper.
Oh, so good. So incredibly tasty and good.
I am inordinately proud of my improvised duck recipe.
The big adventure for the weekend involved an expedition to the Village.
Saturday we had friends over for lunch and then went on an adventure. Some gothic/riot grrl/bellydancing troupe had decided to hold a "Festival of Dreams" in the Village. So we decided to go take a look. Well, we took the PATH to World Trade - but most of the subway stops on the 4-5 were closed for some reason. So we ended up walking. Really long walk.
Anyway, we got there and it was this sad little set of booths set up around a square. They were selling fairly random things - a photo booth, incense, bat wings, bad jewelry, velvet capes...There was supposed to be some kind of performance. We didn't see anything, and wandered off to find some much needed water. We stumbled on a playground that had misters that we ran through (brutally, brutally hot weekend in NYC). Refreshed from our little shower and fortified with bottled water, Coke, and band-aids from a corner drugstore, we returned.
There was indeed a performance going on in the square! Ha ha! We had not walked in vain!
...celebration had come too early, perhaps. The performers were a man and a woman dressed in pseudo-Ancient-Egyptian clothing featuring a lot of cheap shiny gold fabric. The man read some kind of religious invocation/spoken word piece that seemed to imply they worshipped Ancient Gods that they Egyptians themselves have since abandoned. The woman, meanwhile, waved her golden fabric "wings" with great intensity.
They were followed by a singer hailed as the "breakout artist of the millenium". She did a Indian-hip hop fusion thing. Not too bad, if you like the style, but it seemed sad that the "breakout artist of the millenium" was stuck singing on a bad sound system in a park while the audience she kept telling to "wave your hands in the air" slowly drifted away.
After that, they decided to take a little break, and we decided to seek a bench. We'd come to the conclusion we should leave soon anyway when a "traditional bard" came to the mike. And announced that he was going to tell us a story in "traditional bardic" style. A story of..."The Tell-Tale Heart".
Rather than listen to a man dressed like a Ren Faire reject try to convince us that Edgar Allen Poe was suitable material for Celtic storytellers, we decided to go home.
Still, it was certainly amusing.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-23 01:18 am (UTC)From:Size you get at restaurant, yes.
Ooh, Ren Faire. Need to work out details.