Quinces and Duck; A sort of Perfumed Monster

The Cheshire quinces that Bert brought us this year came in halfway through service in crates and were so strongly perfumed that their scent took over the whole place in minutes. I didn’t bother to explain to the guests that tonight we would not be serving them, thinking instead that the aroma was a treat enough.

It coincided with the first delivery of Pekin ducks from Elaine in Exeter. I ordered extra offal because we’ve enjoyed grilling the hearts over coals, and with the livers, Fergus has been making a parfait. The parfait tastes sweet and decadent and is perfect for this time of year. He’s also been spending extra time covering the parfait in a coating of pale yellow butter, which makes it reminiscent of the old pictures of Marco’s terrines. It is served with a chutney made from preserved gooseberries, pickled plums, or whatever else is coming from the jars we filled around stone fruit season. 

We use every part of the bird, including the gizzards. In the kitchen, the gizzards are an underused part of the duck, which is ironic, as this is the most overworked muscle when the animal is alive. The insides of the gizzard are composed of rough skin. When the bird eats grain or corn, it will take with a beakful of grit with it. Together with the grit, the rough skin of the gizzards acts as a sort of grain mill, grinding down the meal for better digestion. When cooked, their texture is interesting. Perhaps not quite refined enough to be enjoyed unaccompanied,  they make a hearty contribution to stews, farces and mince to be made into faggots or sausages. We have often served them in a porridge of grains as if to come full circle back to their original purpose.