Paisano: Duck Rillettes

For years I thought the Paisano was essentially a bum. A charming, well-groomed, erudite bum who could cook like a top chef, but a bum nevertheless. He spent most of his life wandering from place to place, he certainly didn't work for a living, and he seemed to survive largely on the generosity of others (including me). So it was a tremendous surprise when, shortly after moving to California, he invited me to spend Thanksgiving with him in Tahoe. Frankly, knowing he sometimes house-sat for friends, I assumed that was the case here. I had no other plans for T'day and hadn't been to Tahoe before, so I readily agreed.

I drove up on Thanksgiving, a glorious sunny day, forsaking the Interstate and instead taking a blue highway that wound slowly into the mountains. There'd been a couple of snows already, but the roads were clear and it was a delightful drive. I'd bought one of Charles Kuralt's books on tape and his warm baritone, telling of his travels across the country, was the perfect company. After a couple of wrong turns I finally found the place: a medium-sized, 1 1/2-story log cabin some distance out of town on the lake.

The rillettes were a revelation, how could something so simple taste so good?

The cabin had huge great room/dining area/kitchen dominated by a stone fireplace in which a fire was crackling noisily. The mantle featured a huge copper tray that I recognized as Arabic. Beside the chimney were five or six of shelves featuring a huge collection of ceramic and terracotta platters and bowls. The other walls sported a few impressionistic watercolors, which I subsequently learned were originals, not prints. A stairway led up to a loft and the second of two bedrooms.

As you might expect, the kitchen drew my attention. It sported a commercial (genuinely commercial) range, a large work island, a fridge, and a huge soapstone sink. The cabinets were stained green (as was all the trim in the house) and a similarly green door led into what I found was a walk-in pantry — thus sealing my complete envy. It almost goes without saying that the house smelled wonderful.

Paisano was making duck confit, or I should say, he'd just finished making duck confit. There were half a dozen legs cooling on a pan. Also on the counter was a pork loin — our Thanksgiving dinner. We sat and had a couple of glasses of wine and caught up, and that's when I learned the cabin belonged to him.

He told me it stood vacant much of the year, except for a housekeeper who kept an eye on it and dusted and vacuumed as needed. As we chatted I learned he kept the cabin because he needed a place to keep the few things he valued — the paintings (it turned he'd done several of them), his collection of platters and bowls, and a few other things. And also, despite his wanderlust, he found that he needed a home base where he could paint, and cook, and catch his breath. I also learned that my invitation to the cabin was an exceptional honor. It was his private space and he seldom shared it with others.

We started making dinner at about 4:00, the pork loin was browned in a cocotte (as Paisano calls it, a Dutch oven in my terms) and then he added milk and garlic. I steamed some beans to be sautéed with garlic, pancetta, and anchovies. Then I prepped Potatoes Anna while Paisano made Tiramisu for dessert. The last step was duck rillettes for an appetizer. I knew about rillettes but had never made or eaten them.

Rillettes are some kind of meat (rabbit, pork, goose, or in this case, duck) slowly cooked in fat and then pounded into a paste. Rillettes are an old method of preserving meat, very much a peasant dish in origin. It's served spread on bread or crackers.

Duck Rillettes
Serves 6 as an hors d'oeuvres.
Recipe adapted from Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn.

8 oz duck confit at room temperature, about 2 legs
2 tbsp duck fat
1/4 c duck gelatin (from duck confit, a friend calls it "duck goo", it's the liquid that settles to the bottom when making confit)
plenty of ground black pepper
some salt, maybe

Place all ingredients in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle blade. Process at high speed until meat is completely shredded, scraping down sides of bowl occasionally. Taste and adjust seasonings. Serve on slices of baguette.

The entire meal was delicious, but the rillettes were a revelation. How could something so simple taste so good? Even when you factor in making the confit it's simple and easy. The champagne Paisano opened was perfect for cutting through the fat.

Note: Paisano is a fictious character and events presented may or may not be true.

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