First buy your duck fat ...

... because honestly, who among us is really the sort of frugal French housewife who has this sort of thing lying around?
Mr Brown picked these up, last weekend, when I had a broken back. I write very specific instructions on the shopping lists when Mr Brown does the food forage solo. For the duck fat the list was particularly explicit, "2 JARS duck fat, French, NOT Luv-a-Duck, no no no".Then rinse and dry your duck, leg & thigh pieces. Salt them well. Smash up some garlic and thyme with some salt and spread over the duck.Cover well, weigh down and pop in the fridge for at least 12 hours.The next day, clean off the pieces of the salt and herbs. Dry well. At this stage in proceedings cats want to be your BEST FRIEND!Pop a little sliced garlic, thyme and some bay leaves in the bottom of your baking tray.Place the duck on top, in a single layer.Realise that although it's December, it's actually cold today and the duck fat is solid. Gently heat in a small pot. Use a pot you've used and trusted for at least 20 years, otherwise it may explode, kill the oven and totally fuck up your weekend. I know of what I speak.Pour over the liquid fat, it should totally cover the duck. It's a lot of fat, it's frightening how much fat it is and how, well, fatty the fat is. Slick is the word that comes to mind. Slick and silky.Cover the pan with tin foil and carefully, very, very carefully pop it in the oven. O, yes the oven, have that pre-heated to about 150c. Try not to trip over your cats, they are likely to be circling like furry sharks.
Then, 2 to 3 hours later, pull out the duck. Again, very, very carefully. If the meat is coming away from the bone, it is done. Then take your mid-19C antique French Confit Crock ... or your 1990s, Springmount Pottery Soup Tureen ... ... and start placing the duck inside.Layer carefully with the bones pointing up, it makes getting them out, when the time comes, much easier. Now, the tricky bit. You need to ladel over the duck fat from the pan, but without any of the delishious cooking juices in it. I spoon out until it the juice starts creeping onto the spoon. Then pour the rest into a jug and pop it in the fridge for a bit. The fat goes right to the top and hardens so you can just scrape it off. The juices set to jelly and can be used for soup or risotto later.
Cover carefully and pop into the fridge until needed.
It is said the duck can be preserved this way, safe for eating, for months. We never keep it around long enough to find out.
To be continued ....

So, I did ok on the loot side of things ...

My wishlist of 3, if you remember, was:-
1. Fancy French Food (the dinner element) - I can now reveal Mr Brown is taking me to Claude's on Saturday where we will have the tasting menu along with the wine flight. Before then we're going to Tastevin Bistro tomorrow night, because Wednesdays are always late-home days.
2. Fine Art from a Far off Foreign land (the big present) - a beautiful painting of Jellicle Rats by the talented Jackie Morris, who lives with a pride of ginger cats in Wales (one died today, a terrible sadness for her & his furry friends).Aren't they just beautiful?
3. A FishFacsimilie (the little present) - a lovely Jersey Pottery platter with a Sea Trout painted upon it, part of the Fruits de Mer range, of which I already have an oyster plate.Speaking of oysters, we ate 2 dozen of them, in the kitchen, tonight (Mr Brown's keeping all the shells from this and all feasts past and to come. He's building a midden in the backyard he tells me).
Assisted and/or hampered by a small, Siamese, furry shark. Pingu does not 'do' oysters. The intention was to have 12 with a vinaigrette and 12 steamed with soy & rice vinegar. However, after a disastrous and depressing attempt at frock shopping in the afternoon, followed by slaving over a hot fish pie, I simply couldn't be arsed steaming. So I whomped up a 2nd vinaigrette and we guzzled them down.Fish pie? Why yes, a rather fancy version made with prawns, scallops and some salmon, all held together with a light sauce flavoured with dill & lemon.We are a couple of full-as-googs brown mice, we are.(Knitted by my lovely mama just for me, 2 mice and their pet blue-banded bees).
Happy birthday human, where's our dinner?

Cooking in plastic ...

... sometime last week a twerp, @becford74, mentioned oven bags and how she'd seen an advertisement for some. Ms @Becford74 believed she may have been feverishly hallucinating because nobody cooks in plastic bags, that would be madness!
Aha, fellow twerp @Reemski and I chimed in. Our mothers used to do it although we couldn't remember why. I tweeted I'd give it a go, should I find one of these magic bags at the 5th circle of hell that is Coles, at the weekend.
Find some I did, a packet of four. Not the same as those mentioned by @becford74, those came with "flavour sachets", something I'd not use anyway, so no loss. I popped them into the trolley, adjusted my weekly menu and went forth to score myself a mid-range, free-range chook. (Why, yes, I DID oil the baking dish, I was on automatic pilot, I rinsed and dried and started again, rest assured.)
Well, if it failed horribly it would be a $20-odd failure rather than a $35+ failure. One must be pragmatic about these things.
I read the package carefully, following the instructions fearfully, and then made a quick call to the mother just to be certain. I'm sure the manufacturers know their stuff but mother knows best. Really, she does!
Spoonful of flour shaken all about - checkPunch a few holes in the bag - check(ish) (Mum said she always put the holes at the twist tie end, I'd punched them all over. I feared the worst, exploding bag "splattering hot juices" all over the shop. "It WON'T explode" quoth the Mouse Mother!)
Bag tied shut with bit ripped off the bag - checkStuffed full of real life flavour enhancers, rather than chemical packet stuff, into the oven it went. (I'd forgotten you could put the spuds in the bag too, so the jacket potatoes and an eggplant for baba for later went into another tray. I'm nothing if not thrifty McHousewife, me!)
"But will it brown Mum?"
"Oh yes, it's a clear bag. It will brown beautifully."
"WHY did you cook in a bag?"
"It made the most wonderful terrine."
Yes, apparently if you cook a little over the recommended cooking time, despite the DIRE warnings on the box, the meat falls off the bones. You just wait until it's cool enough to touch, pull out the bones and pour the meat and all the juices into a terrine mould. When cool the gelatin in the juices holds it into a wonderful terrine, or brawn or whatever. That's my next trick!So, did it brown? Why yes, amazingly the skin was parchment dry, crisp and gobbly good.Were there juices? O my, yes, and easily poured out of the bag into the saucepan for cooking down with a little flour for the most wonderful gravy!
Was it good? Why yes, it was moist, even the breast meat and full of flavour (I'd have been pissed if it hadn't been I'll admit).
Will the Brown Mice do it again? You know, I think we might, the two smallest, furriest members of the household certainly think we should. Tummys full as butcher's kittehs!.

I forgot ...

... last weekend I decanted the vodka I'd been flavouring with part of our native lime harvest. Out of the jar and back into the bottle went the booze. A rather delightful pale green booze. Not the pretty pink I was expecting (the limes were reddish going in) but still, not bad looking, and it tastes mighty fine too. Still, I'm left with a couple of handfuls of tiny, pickled limes. What on earth was I going to do with them? A quick taste test answered that question, eat them! Piquant is the best descriptor! Piquant and limey!I think the insides look a little like that green stuff they put on some fancy sushi, urchin eggs or somesuch.

I will not be encouraging Possum ...

... to come inside.From Here

The sun has a new nickname ...

... Evil Daystar!

I was a widow tonight ...

... or for most of it anyway, what with Mr Brown jetting off to Melbourne for the day. So I went to see the Monet exhibition with a couple of girlfriends and we decided dumplings for dinner was the way to go. Much discussion ended up with us heading in the general direction of Chinatown because we couldn't decide on a specific venue.
But we wandered past Din Tai Fung - which has mile-long queues at lunchtime and early evening so we've never bothered (I HATE queuing). But the time, the rain and the fact it was Wednesday all played out in our favour and bingo - we were in.
We were little piggies, 2 kinds of xiao long bao (a dumpling with SOUP in it - requiring special printed instructions on how to eat them), hot short sour soup and water spinach with garlic (humming with it, yum). I'm definitely taking Mr Brown there - full as googs we were.
A short walk in the rain to get home and another attempt at applying eyeliner (at least I didn't dye my eyeballs blue this time*), I'm ready for bed.



* A story for another time I think.

The cute Irish boy with twinkling blue eyes ...

...made my lunchtime toastie today. I love toasties. Rather like the rabbit of one of my favourite jokes.
A rabbit walks into a pub and says to the barman "Can I have a pint of beer and a ham and cheese toastie?".
The barman is amazed but gives the rabbit a pint of beer and a ham and cheese toastie and the rabbit drinks the beer and eats the toastie, and leaves.
The following night the rabbit returns and again asks for a of beer and a ham and cheese toastie. The barman, now intrigued, gives the rabbit the pint and the toastie. The rabbit consumes them and leaves.
The next night, in walks the rabbit and says "of beer and a ham and cheese toastie, please barman". Drinks the beer, eats the toastie and leaves with a merry wave.
And so it goes, until one night in walks the rabbit and says, "a pint of beer and a ham and cheese toastie, please barman" and the barman says, "I'm sorry rabbit, old mate, old mucker, but we are right out of ham and cheese toasties".
The rabbit looks aghast, when the barman clears his throat nervously and says, "we do have a very nice cheese and onion toastie".
The rabbit looks him in the eye and says, "are you sure I’ll like it?" and the barman, with a roguish smile, says "do you think that I would let down one of my best friends? I know you'll love it".
"Ok" says the rabbit, "I'll have a pint of beer and a cheese and onion toastie". He quaffs the beer and guzzles the toastie, he then waves to the barman and leaves.........NEVER TO RETURN!!!!!!
One year later, the barman calls time and, as he is cleaning down the now empty bar, he sees a small white form, floating above the bar.
"Who are you?" the barman asks, and the apparition answers "I am the ghost of the rabbit that used to frequent your public house".
The barman says, "I remember you, you’d come in every night and have a pint of beer and a ham and cheese toastie " . The rabbit says, "yes I know".
The barman said, "but on your last night we didn't have any ham and cheese toasties, you had a cheese and onion one instead". The rabbit said, "yes, you promised me I’d love it".
The barman said, "you never came back, what happened?"
"I DIED", said the rabbit.
"NO!" said the barman, "what from?"
And after a short pause the rabbit said ...



"Mixin'-me-toasties".

I am so over this fucking rain ...

... it's 13 solid days in a row! And it's not as if the weather was perfectly dry before then. I can't get any real washing done. It's getting desperate, down to the last knickers in the drawer. You know the ones, those lacy, uncomfortable silly knickers. Gak!
Still, it does give me an excuse to watch all these, very funny indeed.