Andelår med Rødkål

November in Denmark is when you stop pretending autumn will last. The trees are bare. The bicycles have lights on at four in the afternoon. This is duck weather.

Andelår med rødkål is the weeknight duck, not the Christmas one. The Christmas bird is a whole roast duck, stuffed with apples and prunes, ceremonial and once-a-year. This is different. Duck legs, slow-roasted until the fat has rendered out and the skin has gone dark and crisp, served with red cabbage braised long enough to turn sweet and soft, and small potatoes rolled in caramel. It's a Tuesday night dinner that happens to be extraordinary.

Three things matter here. First: score the duck skin deeply and start it in a cold pan. The fat needs time to render, and rushing it gives you flabby skin and greasy meat. Second: the red cabbage wants patience. An hour at least, longer if you can give it. It should be soft enough to melt on your tongue, sweet from the apples and the redcurrant jelly, sharp from the vinegar. Third: the brunede kartofler, the caramelized potatoes, are their own small project. You make a dry caramel, add butter, and roll the potatoes through it. It sounds fiddly. It isn't. And once you've done it, you'll understand why Danes put them next to everything that matters.