Recipe below: Duck Ragù with Black Olives and Orange
In the early 1980s when I met the man who was to become my husband, he was involved in a rented group house out in Riverhead, Long Island. About ten friends rented the house. I eventually became a member of the group, with both good and really bad outcomes. There was one woman who was nasty to me for no apparent reason, I came to think of her as pinch-faced and bitter and maybe even slightly unhinged. At one point a string of pearls my father had given me for Christmas disappeared from my room. I suspected her of taking it, but I never confronted her because I couldn’t truly imagine anyone doing such a creepy thing, even though she was pretty creepy. They were never found, and now, 35 years later, I’m still convinced it was her.
They called this fairly large, two-story, seen better days house and its property the duck farm, because it had once actually been one. You could still wander the acreage and enter a few of the dilapidated barns and imagine all the ducks crammed in there quacking like crazy. Long Island used to have a lot of duck farms, but by this time there were only a handful left. We’d occasionally purchase a few ducks for our group meals. Compared with now, they were cheap. I cooked many ducks back then, mostly roasting them whole, making sauces from oranges or cherries or green olives and rosemary, or once with kumquats, that one sort of a bitter mess but still good if you drank enough cheap red wine. The nasty person didn’t come to the table when I cooked dinner. At first that made me uncomfortable, but after a while I didn’t give a shit. I really liked cooking in the big square kitchen, its cupboard filled with authentic Fiestaware in haunting colors like mauve, olive, and teal.
I tried different duck roasting methods, since back then I was just learning, from hot and fast to low and slow and to low and really slow, and what I discovered, which was frustrating and also a bit of a mystery, was that often the duck would taste like liver. I was perplexed. It never tasted like that in Chinatown. I don’t detect that taste now when I cook duck. It might be that by now I’m just better at cooking it, but I also wonder if maybe there was too much blood left in those Long Island ducks, too much iron in the muscle. Lazy duck farmers? I’m not sure, but duck is high in not only iron but also magnesium, selenium, phosphorus, and B vitamins, so it has good healthy gaminess going on. You can’t expect it to be bland, but that liver taste was a stretch for my palate. I now find it easier to cook the breast and legs separately. I buy D’Artagnan mulard duck breasts and legs at Citarella. Mulard is a cross between Muscovy and Peking breeds. As far as I can remember, all the Long Island ducks were Peking, which had more fat and less meat. Mulard ducks are dark and meaty.
For this recipe you’ll need three whole duck legs. They get cooked low and slow until you can pull the meat off with your fingers and throw it all back into the sauce to create a rich ragù. I’ve chosen flavors—orange, and black olives—that I initially thought of as Provençal, but I’ve also added cinnamon, which in the final tasting gives it a Sicilian aroma, or possibly a Venetian Renaissance one. In any case it is really good, and I hope you’ll give it a try.
Duck Ragù with Black Olives and Orange
3 duck legs (I used D’Artagnan mulard duck legs)
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 onion, cut into small dice
1 carrot, cut into small dice
1 celery stalk, cut into small dice, plus a handful of leaves, if you have them, lightly chopped
½ teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon allspice
¾ cup of dry vermouth (I really like Dolin)
2 cups homemade chicken broth
2 fresh bay leaves
1 teaspoon honey
1½ cups well-chopped canned tomatoes
The juice from 1 large orange and the grated zest from 1½
A palmful of black Taggiasca or Niçoise olives, pitted if you like
Possibly a few drops of rice wine vinegar
1½ pounds fresh tagliatelle or pappardelle
About a dozen basil leaves, lightly chopped
A good-sized chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
Lightly score the duck through its fatty skin in a crisscross pattern. Rub the legs with salt and pepper. Get out a large casserole fitted with a lid (I used an 11-inch-long oval Le Creuset). Get it hot over medium heat, and add the duck legs, skin side down. Let them give off much of their fat and get a bit brown. That should take about 5 minutes. Flip them over, and brown their undersides, about another 4 minutes. Take them out, and stick them in a bowl or on a plate.
Pour off all but about 2 tablespoons of the duck fat (I had more than a cup of fat at this point, so I froze it for a later use, probably in something involving potatoes). Turn the heat back to medium, and add the onion, carrot, celery (and leaves if you have them), cinnamon, allspice, and a little more salt and black pepper. Sauté until everything is soft and fragrant. Put the duck and any juices it has given off back in the casserole, and sauté for another minute or so. Add the vermouth, and let it bubble for about a minute. Add the chicken broth, bay leaves, honey, and tomatoes, and bring it to a boil. Cover the casserole, and stick it in the hot oven.
After about an hour, open to pot, and add the orange juice and zest. If the liquid has cooked down a lot, you may want to add a bit more chicken broth or a little water. Give the duck legs a turn, cover the pot, and put it back in the oven for another 1½ hours.
Take the casserole from the oven. By this time the duck should be tender and pretty much falling off the bone. Remove the duck legs from the pot, and place them on a large plate. Let them sit until they’re cool enough to handle.
The sauce should have a nice maroon sheen to it and have thickened but still be loose enough to make a clingy pasta sauce. Skim off any excess fat.
When the duck is somewhat cool, pull off all the meat and shred it up a bit with your fingers, dropping it all into the pot with the sauce. Add the olives, and give it a good stir. Check the consistency and judge whether you might need to add a little water or broth. Give it a taste. I find sometimes that the richness of duck needs a little extra acid, and even here with all the vermouth, tomato, and orange, I found I wanted a few drops of rice wine vinegar to brighten the flavors. You may also want more black pepper.
Cook your tagliatelle or pappardelle until tender. While the pasta is cooking, put a low flame under the sauce to gently keep it hot.
Drain the pasta, and pour it into a large serving bowl. Add the duck sauce and the basil, and gently toss. Serve right away, bringing the chunk of Parmigiano to the table for grating.
Erica De Mane 
I so enjoy reading your stories Erica. And for sure I’ll be making this ragu!
Phyllis, Thanks so much. And I think you’ll like the duck.