Peking duck
A Peking duck dinner is a feast built from a single ingredient. It starts with nibbling on a taco-like snack of the delicately crisp skin tucked inside thin mandarin pancakes with a lick of earthy bean sauce. That’s followed by a simple stir-fry featuring the gamey meat with lots of fragrant ginger and scallion. Finally, a rich soup infused by the remaining bones and bits is offered to cleanse the palate.
It’s a production that until recently I didn’t have the gumption to tackle. I let the pros at Chinese restaurants do the work. But those meals were rarely as regal as those described in books. Though the skin was always crisp, the flesh was sometimes mealy or the pancakes were mass-produced and characterless. When the courses arrived too fast and overlapped, flavors got jumbled up, diminishing the overall experience.
I was never truly satisfied, but making the Chinese classic myself seemed like a culinary deed of derring-do, beyond the reach of mere mortals. Then, around Lunar New Year in February, I decided that I’d had enough with paying for so-so duck dinners and would try to master Peking duck three ways. After several months of trying, I think I’ve succeeded.
The first and biggest hurdle was figuring out the duck itself. There’s an entire mythology around it. The duck must be whole and has to be eviscerated through a hole in one of the armpits; you have to pump air between the skin and flesh to detach the skin so the fat will drip off during roasting (the key to creating the signature crisp-yet-not-oily skin). The skin needs to be scalded, rubbed with diluted sugar syrup and then dried in chilly, open-air conditions. Finally, the duck needs to be cooked suspended over a live fire, preferably stoked by fragrant jujube wood.
That’s a lot to do for one dinner. But rather than ducking the issue, I took it as a puzzle to solve.
The armpit requirement was not possible, but obtaining a freshly killed duck with its head and feet intact was not hard. Chinese markets and Chinatown poultry shops sell plenty of well-priced ones. Even better, most ducks bred for consumption in America are of the Pekin variety, also known as Long Island duck. Was the Kitchen God on my side or what?
Blowing air into the duck didn’t require vast lung power and a bamboo straw, or operating an air compressor as Ming Tsai did on the “Battle Duck” episode of “Iron Chef.” I used what was available at my home: the plastic foot pump that came with my exercise ball. (A bicycle pump would work too.) I “sewed” up the cavity with a bamboo skewer and used a paring knife to cut a tiny hole at the base of the duck’s neck. The duck inflated like a charm.
Scalding and tanning the skin are typically done as a two-step procedure with the duck suspended from a meat hook. That proved overly fussy, so I combined the steps. I put away the hook, placed the duck on a baking sheet and simply ladled over a hot soy, honey and wine mixture, a tip from Chinese food expert Ken Hom that yielded extra savor and a mahogany color.
At first I tried leaving the duck to dry in my cool garage, but it started to take on a slightly funky smell. Instead, I air-chilled my next duck in the refrigerator for a couple of days and at the end, the duck had developed an enviable tan reminiscent of the Bain de Soleil commercials of my youth.
The duck-drying days bought me time to make mandarin pancakes and, maybe most important, figure out how to bring the entire meal together -- the roasting, stir-frying, brewing of the broth and, ultimately, serving of the meal.
Restaurants that specialize in Peking duck have special ovens and trained staff. Plus, they are always a duck ahead of their diners, meaning there is broth constantly simmering. My workarounds included cooking the duck on a vertical roaster to facilitate even heat circulation, prepping as much in advance as possible, keeping the stir-fry simple and fast, and doctoring up canned chicken broth for the soup.
As it turns out, the pancakes can be refrigerated for days and freeze beautifully for weeks. I realized after several trials that once the duck is roasted, its glossy skin stays crisp for a good hour, allowing me to start the broth, assemble the stir-fry ingredients and even clean up the kitchen a little bit before guests arrived.
Sure, I had to run back and forth between the kitchen and table during the serving, but it was worth it. My family and friends were as amazed as I was that terrific Peking duck could be made at home in a regular oven with no super-special equipment.
I had slain the mythological beast and come out with a darned good duck.
Nguyen is the author of the blog Viet World Kitchen.
Prepare the duck: Remove any excess fat in the body cavity near the rear opening. To refresh the duck, vigorously rub the salt into its cavity and on its skin. Rinse, drain and pat dry with paper towel.
Put the duck, breast side up, on a baking sheet. Sew up the duck’s abdominal cavity with a bamboo skewer; break off the excess skewer, if you like.
To inflate the duck, use the tip of a paring knife to pierce a hole at the bottom of the duck’s neck. Aim for the firm center just above the wishbone.
Inflate the duck, directing air to one side, then the other. The duck should puff up to reveal a six-pack abs-like structure. If the duck just puffs a little, then you may be pumping air into the cavity and not under the skin. Reposition the nozzle higher. If there is an air leak in the skin, make a new hole below the original one and retry. Flip the duck over and inflate its backside, making a hole at the top of the spine. Expect the duck to lose some air once you remove the pump nozzle.
Put the duck on a cutting board and use a heavy cleaver or knife to cut off its legs, right below the knee joint. Then cut off the first two joints of its wings. Finally cut off its neck, leaving about 2 inches attached to the body. Cut the head from the neck and discard. Refrigerate the remaining spare parts (neck bone, wing tips, feet) for the broth. Put the duck, breast side up, on a vertical roasting rack placed on a baking sheet and set near the stove.
In a saucepan, combine 3 cups water, two-thirds cup rice wine, honey, light soy sauce and 1 1/2 teaspoons of the dark soy sauce. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a good simmer.
Slowly ladle two-thirds of the mixture on the duck, bathing it from the top of its thighs to the top of its neck. Partway through, flip the duck over and repeat on its backside.
Now add the remaining 1 tablespoon of dark soy sauce to the leftover mixture, stir and ladle the liquid over the lower portion of the duck. It’s OK if some of this darker liquid runs to the upper part.
Lift the duck off the rack and set aside briefly. Discard the pooled liquid and wash the rack and baking sheet. Replace the rack in the baking sheet, then put the duck on top, breast side up. Slide the duck into the refrigerator and let it air chill, uncovered, for 1 1/2 days, roughly 36 hours. Expect the skin to darken as it dries and to feel somewhat like parchment paper. (The mandarin pancakes can be made ahead of time while the duck dries.)
Return the dried duck to room temperature before roasting. Position a rack in the lower third or bottom of the oven to allow the duck to roast upright in the middle of the oven; the top of its neck should be about 3 inches from the broiler element. While the duck is warming, heat the oven to 450 degrees.
If needed, lightly spray or oil the vertical roaster. Turn and partially pull out the bamboo skewer to open the duck’s body cavity about 3 inches. Insert the vertical roaster. It’s OK if the duck is leaning forward or slouching a bit. Place the duck in a roasting pan, add a good quarter inch of water, then slide the pan into the oven.
Roast for 15 minutes, then lower the temperature to 350 degrees and continue roasting until the skin is crisp, richly browned and shiny, about 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Rotate the pan as needed so the skin browns evenly. When it is ready, the skin should sound hollow when gently tapped.
While the duck roasts, ready the accompaniments. To make the sauce, whisk together the bean sauce, remaining 2 teaspoons rice wine and remaining tablespoon water in a small bowl. Taste and add sugar, sesame oil or both as desired. The sauce is ready to use.
Put the green onions and cucumber on one or two plates. Place the sauce and vegetable garnishes on the table, and ready the steamer and mandarin pancakes for reheating.
When the duck is done, remove from the oven and set aside to rest for 10 to 15 minutes.
Twist and completely pull out the skewer. To remove the skin without it getting soggy, keep the duck on the roaster. Visualize the duck skin as four long quadrants. Now use a knife to cut downward through the skin, first to split the breast, then down the two sides and the back. Pry and peel away the large pieces of skin. You will have to make some additional horizontal cuts to remove the skin. Set the skin aside on a plate as you work.
Remove the vertical roaster from the skinless duck, and disassemble the carcass, cutting or pulling the flesh off the bones. Prepare to present the meat alongside the skin, setting aside 1 1/2 cups if desired to make the stir-fry recipe. (As the duck is broken down, save the carcass to add to the duck broth recipe if desired.) Reserve the 1 1/2 cups (one-half pound) of meat for the stir-fry and save the remainder to present alongside the skin.
Break up the carcass and add it to the soup, along with any leftover bits. Simmer the soup as directed.
To serve the duck with pancakes, cut the skin into pieces about 1 by 2 inches, and arrange on a platter. Include the duck meat. At the table, invite guests to take a pancake, smear on some sauce and top with a piece of skin, a piece of meat and a few green onion and cucumber strips. Fold or roll up the pancake and eat.
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