
Chef Thomas
A Proper Roast Chicken
A whole bird rubbed with butter, stuffed with lemon and thyme, roasted until the skin crackles and the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to sit down and stay in.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Duck legs, slow-roasted until the fat renders and the skin turns to glass, served with a dark, glossy sauce of port and sour cherries that tastes like winter at its best.
January. Properly cold now. The kind of evening where you close the curtains before five and the kitchen becomes the warmest room in the house. This is when I want duck.
Duck legs are patient, forgiving things. You score the skin, season them well, and put them in a low oven where the fat renders out slowly and the skin tightens and crisps over a couple of hours. The kitchen fills with a scent that's hard to describe and impossible to ignore: rich, savoury, faintly herbal from the thyme, with that particular warmth that only rendered duck fat carries. You don't need to do much. Check on them once. Trust the oven. Trust the time.
The sauce makes itself while you wait. Dried sour cherries soaked in ruby port until they swell and darken. The whole lot simmered with stock and a splash of vinegar in the roasting tin, scraping up those sticky, caramelised bits that hold all the flavour. It reduces to something dark and glossy that tastes of winter fruit and woodsmoke and the sort of evening you want to stay inside for.
I wrote this one down in the notebook years ago. Just the bones of it: duck, port, cherries, Tuesday, rain. I've made it dozens of times since, and the only thing that changes is what goes alongside. The duck stays the same. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, but sometimes you arrive at something that doesn't need revising.
Quantity
4
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
3
peeled and halved lengthways
Quantity
3
unpeeled and lightly crushed
Quantity
4 sprigs
Quantity
2
Quantity
100g
Quantity
200ml
Quantity
250ml
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
a knob
cold
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| duck legs | 4 |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| banana shallotspeeled and halved lengthways | 3 |
| garlic clovesunpeeled and lightly crushed | 3 |
| fresh thyme | 4 sprigs |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| dried sour cherries (Morello) | 100g |
| ruby port | 200ml |
| chicken or duck stock | 250ml |
| red wine vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| unsalted buttercold | a knob |
Take the duck legs out of the fridge a good hour before you start. Cold meat in a hot pan fights you. Score the skin in a crosshatch with a sharp knife, cutting through the fat but not into the flesh beneath. Season generously with fine sea salt and black pepper, rubbing it into the scores. The salt draws moisture from the skin, and dry skin is what crisps. This is the part most people skip. Don't.
Set the oven to 160C/140C fan. Place the duck legs skin-side down in a cold, dry roasting tin or ovenproof pan. No oil. No butter. Put them over a medium-low heat on the hob and let the fat render out slowly. This takes fifteen minutes or so. Don't rush it. You'll hear a gentle, steady sizzle, not a fierce spit. When the skin has gone golden and the tin has a good puddle of clear duck fat, they're ready for the oven.
Tuck the shallot halves, garlic cloves, thyme sprigs, and bay leaves around the duck legs in the tin. Turn the legs skin-side up. They should be sitting in their own rendered fat with the aromatics nestled beneath them. Slide the tin into the oven and leave it alone for an hour and a half to two hours. The kitchen will start to smell of something deep and savoury after about forty minutes. That's the thyme and the duck fat doing their work. The legs are done when the skin is dark golden and crackling, and the meat pulls easily from the bone when you press it with a spoon.
While the duck is in the oven, warm the port in a small saucepan until it just begins to shiver at the edges. Drop in the dried cherries, take the pan off the heat, and let them sit. They'll swell and soften and turn the port a shade darker. By the time you need them, they'll have drunk up half the liquid. That's fine. That's what you want.
When the duck is done, lift the legs out onto a warm plate and cover loosely. Rest them while you make the sauce. Pour off all but a tablespoon of the duck fat from the tin (save it, it's liquid gold for roast potatoes). Set the tin over a medium heat on the hob, scraping up the sticky bits from the bottom with a wooden spoon. Pour in the port and cherries and let it bubble for a minute, then add the stock and the red wine vinegar. Let it simmer and reduce by about a third, until it coats the back of the spoon and tastes rich and concentrated, sharp and sweet in equal measure. Season and taste. Then taste again.
Take the sauce off the heat and stir in the cold butter. It will melt into the liquid and give it a glossy, rounded finish. Place a duck leg on each warm plate and spoon the cherry sauce over and around it, letting the cherries settle in dark little pools. Serve with something that can absorb the sauce: a pile of buttery mash, or some polenta if you prefer, and a green vegetable cooked simply. Steamed greens. Braised cavolo nero. Whatever the season gives you. There are few better feelings than putting a plate like this in front of someone on a cold evening.
1 serving (about 270g)
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