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Duck Quotes

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Duck Quotes

“First up were these dainty heirloom vegetables, speared like lollipops on a "fence" of fine metal pricks. "I'm not a minimalist by nature," the chef explains of this simple yet exquisite dish, "but sometimes the stuff we get from the farm is so perfect, I feel like I shouldn't do much with it: just vegetables, naked, with salt and a little lemon vinaigrette." Andrew and I plucked the carrots, fennel, radishes, and greens one by one, relishing the powerful flavor contained within each, along with the snap, crunch, and wholesomeness. So simple and pure. But it wasn't all so austere. We moved on to luscious potato gnocchi, fresh tilefish from Montauk, and my favorite, duck. Blue Hill gets its ducks from a local farm called Garden of Spices, where they're raised on grass, something that is rarely done in this country. "We cold smoke the legs for several hours- tenderizing the muscles from all that activity- and roast the breasts on the bone.”

“I would give you my grandma’s slow-knitted Duck Soup dance-routine recipe, but my grandpa sold it to Roger Bannister for three minutes and 59 seconds. I think he could have gotten 3:58 for it, if he’d have just gone the extra mile.”

“The caneton took long enough that by the time it showed up, I was hungry again. It was two ducks, actually, tiny and crisp and snuggled tight on a silver tray, swimming in a sauce spiked with brandy and caramel, surrounded by little boats of carved orange peel. It looked exactly like it had in Our World, only better because it was mine. It was the first thing I'd ever eaten where it smelled so good, I tasted it before it hit my mouth. The skin cracked like spring ice. The flesh was almost too salty, almost too sweet, but instead it was perfect--- so tender, I didn't even want to swallow. I just wanted to hold it in my mouth and let it melt. I ate both ducks and knew I'd never be the same. By then I was drunk on butter and salt. But when Jean-Louis brought out a frosted tureen of chocolate mousse, I didn't think of saying no. He slapped it onto my plate like a mason laying down mortar and topped it with a dollop of whipped cream. I licked my plate clean. I didn't think I could stand and was very grateful when, instead of asking me to haul myself out of there, Laurent poured me a little glass of crème de cassis.”

“We confit the leg and serve that with roasted fig and butternut chips, whatever, that's a different prep. But the breast we sear off, right, and the potatoes we slice thick and roast with a little thyme. Crisp up the duck skin, let the fat render, and a minute or two before you take it off the flame to rest, you brush the meat side with some mustard thinned with a little olive oil. You let the breast rest on the potatoes, mustard side down, for maybe two minutes before serving. The juices mingle with the mustard and the thyme and the olive oil on the potatoes, and boom- dish has a sauce by the time you serve it. It's a self-saucing dish.”

“When we were kids, getting your mouth washed out with soap was punishment. But today, I’m selling duck-soup-flavored soap that your own kids will beg to have for dinner, which you’ll eat under a waterfall for maximum bubbles.”

“The plate the waiter now set before her looked like an abstract painting: vivid green shot through with bright-coral slashes. "Taste!" he urged. It was clearly a fish but so sweet she did not recognize it. Looking at the color, she hazarded a guess. "Salmon? Or maybe not. It doesn't taste like salmon." Troisgros looked very pleased. "That is because it was caught just this morning in the Allier, our local river. But also because we preserve the color by slicing the fish very thinly and searing it for just a few seconds." "So it's almost raw?" She wasn't sure about this. "In Japan they eat their fish raw." She took another bite; the herbal sauce flirted with bitterness. "The flavor is so green I feel I'm eating color." "Sorrel." He gestured to the waiter, who removed the plates and then set a single small bird surrounded by sliced fruit in front of each of them. "Sarcelle aux abricots," he announced. "Sarcelle?" Stella did not recognize the word. "It's a freshwater duck," said Jules. "I can't remember the word in English." "Teal," Troisgros supplied. Stella closed her eyes and tried describing the flavor. "It tastes wild." She began to dream herself into the dish as if it were a painting, imagining a golden field in the sunshine, feeling the air rush past, hearing the sound of her own wings. Circling in a great joyous arc, she spotted a tree covered in tawny fruits, breathed their perfume in the air. "I wanted---" the chef was watching her--- "to give you the essence of the animal. To let you taste what the duck ate on her flight through life.”

“Sometimes my kitchen sink doubles as a duck pond. Problem is, I can't exactly move my diving board, so I have to relocate Greg Louganis Hour to another slot, like one on the toaster.”

“Penguins are Antarctica's Pekin duck, and Admiral Byrd just sent me a telegram telling me he wants me to come down there and teach him how to ice fish. The trick is not gluing the bananas to your wetsuit, and keeping the volume of The Golden Girls set at 33.”

“Don’t you just hate it when you step in dog poop? Especially if you’re walking with a friend, and as you smell it and the stench keeps pace with you, you begin to wonder if your friend shit his pants. Thankfully, what comes out of a duck’s anus looks more like coffee, and fills your nostrils like yesterday’s news.”

“Starbucks coffee tastes like watery duck poop. I mean it probably does, because it’s not like I’ve ever drank something so gross. But I have tried duck poop.”

“I've never had a spicy chicken sandwich worth getting stabbed over. But that's the kind of organic marketing experience I'd like to bring to duck farming.”

“Duck farming is a 24/7 thing. But that's OK, because I'm a caffeine junky. I'm also addicted to cheese. Why does alcoholism get classified as a disease, but I get no sympathy for fiending for brie?”

“I am king over my ducks. What does that mean? That means they get to eat and drink and play, and give no thought to where their food and water comes from, and I have to deliver both regularly, while also worrying about protecting them and keeping them absolutely safe.”

“I saw a woman wearing yellow Nikes, so I said, “I love your red shoes.” She told me they are yellow, and I said, "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you are colorblind.” Then I asked her if she wanted to buy a Pekin duck, because we could both agree that its beak was orange.”

“I once saw a moat bicycling around a castle. It was being chased by a soggy giraffe that had a tornado for a neck. I was on the overlooking grassy hill, selling lasagna-free duck soup by the slice to tourists from Nebraska.”

“A slap is a high-five to a face. People are so selfish these days that they could really benefit from that kind of support. Here on my duck farm, I provide that service to select customers for FREE.”

“Nine out of ten dentists recommend my duck-soup-flavored toothpaste. Finally, a toothpaste that was designed to be paired with orange juice. It also goes well with red wine, if you like to start your morning off that way.”

“A dishwasher has a spinning blade inside, and that's like an internal helicopter of cleanliness. Next time, try hygiene and flying, which is to almost attain the status of The Duck.”

“Yogurt is culture. Post-post-modern literature is not. I wish I'd have known that before I went to college to learn how to communicate with less efficiency than ducks, because it’s a spoonful that's hard to swallow at first.”

“The skills needed to stay employable are changing daily, which is why I'm now offering a class called: "How To Sew Pants While Riding A Unicycle And Playing The Saxophone Like A Quacking Duck." What are the jobs of The Future? Nobody knows, but my class will train you to Get Hired!”

“I play mini-golf like I shoot pool like I swim in it. That's also how I play the trombone, which is why it makes trumpet noises. For a saxophone-free duck quacking experience, try adding more water.”