It must be something wired into me that the sight of canisters of duck legs covered in duck fat and entire jars of rendered duck fat bring a feeling of ease and excitement. Is this some sort of animal response to having stores of fat and salt in my dwelling? I made crust the other day with half butter and half duck fat. It came out really really good. I have always wanted to do that since I read about it in the New York Times piece about the perfect pie crust (an article under Arts, not Food. I’ll say.) I made pot pies with remaining bits and the yummy crust. One friend I gifted some pies to asked me to sign the bag they were in. Cheap flattery…I love it.

I also have curing the duck prosciutto. An idea I encountered in Spain and learned about it here. They are now curing in my office and amazingly, they do not have a rotty odor. In fact, every now and again I get a bready salty thymy aroma wafting my way. Coincidently, they will be ready to eat on my birthday.