Gesiers confits de canard du Sud-Ouest

I may have mentioned here that I love duck. French duck. All parts of the duck, except maybe the beak and feet. To my utter horror, I recently found that I have been particularly enjoying duck gizzards, or gésiers de canard. Mon Dieu. Gizzards? Really? Luckily for me, instead of rushing to the nearest loo to um, well, say goodbye to those less attractive bits of the bird, I latched onto the affirmative, choosing instead to take this opportunity to add them to our store cupboard. They’re simply too tasty not to, as long as you don’t think about what they are in terms of ducky parts.

Picture this: Monsieur and I are in a French supermarket, our grown-up equivalent of Hamley’s for kids. He finds his favourite French treats and I find mine. On the way to the check-out, I remember what I forgot:

“Quick, we have to find gésiers de canard,” I tell Monsieur,

“What?” he looks at me like I’ve gone mad. After all, I’ve never bought them before, or cooked them.

“Gésiers de canard!” I tell him again. “We have to find some. They cost the earth in London and we can make great salads with them.”

Monsieur’s now convinced because anything that tastes good in a salad is a tick on his menu. He quickly steers me to the right aisle.

At home, we decide to try out my as yet untested salade de gésiers. I take a tin from the cupboard and read the back, checking with Monsieur that I didn’t misunderstand anything.

“Les Romains, deux siècles avant Jésus-Christ, ont commencé à conserver dans des jarres leurs viandes de canard recouvertes de graisse chaude. Depuis, ce mode de conservation s’est perpétué. Cuisinés selon une recette traditionelle, ces gésiers de canard sont préalablement salés, puis cuits lentement dans la graisse pour développer leur onctuosité et leur goût.”

And in the language of the Anglo-chick:

“The Romans, two centuries before Christ, began preserving their duck meats, covered with hot fat, in earthenware jars.”

(Sounds calorific so far. Ho hum.)

“…This preserving method has been in use ever since. Cooked according to a traditional recipe, these duck gizzards are first salted, then cooked slowly in fat in order to develop their smoothness and their taste.”

Interesting blurb but there’s that word again: gizzards. Ick.

I opened the can, confronted by an opaque fatty gloop containing brown bits and pieces. It looked horrifyingly like pet food, but smelled fantastic. Following the instructions, I put the whole lot into a frying pan over a low heat. The gloop melted immediately, leaving the ducky bits to swim in spitting, hot, clear fat. I poured this off, but continued to heat the gésiers for several more minutes. Then I tried one ducky piece in the interests of not feeding dog food to Monsieur. It was delicious, melting in the mouth. Ah, sweet culinary success. We’re onto a winner.

The only downside was a couple of crunchy bits grinding against my teeth. Ah. That would be the by-product of gésiers, then. The fact that a gizzard is

A modified muscular pouch behind the stomach in the alimentary canal of birds, having a thick lining and often containing ingested grit that aids in the breakdown of seeds before digestion.

Mmmm. Nice. The word and the ingested grit still won’t put me off, after all, it was only a couple of pieces.

To prepare the gésiers (much better word than ‘gizzard’), see above. Toss the warm gésiers over salad leaves, asparagus, chopped spring onions and ripe avocado pieces. Ideal for lunch or a light dinner.