Duck Terrine and Quince Chutney

When life throws you quinces, throw them back and aim for the head.

What? Oh come off it, doofus. (et puis quoi encore, espèce d’andouille?)

When life throws you 2 quinces, I say, quarter them and blanch them for 10 minutes,  while simultaneously sweating two chopped onions in a tablespoon of olive oil. Drain the quinces, let them cool a bit, peel and core them, and chuck them in with the onions, along with a tablespoon of freshly chopped ginger, a pinch of salt, a cinnamon stick, a handful of raisins, 15-20 cl of cider vinegar and 2/3c brown sugar. Simmer for 30 minutes.  And if you’re a smart aleck (si vous êtes un petit malin), serve at room-temp, along with, say, a duck and green peppercorn terrine with warm chestnut and buckwheat toasts.

Now my most faithful readers will remember my looney toon look-alike pork butcher from my boudin blanc antics. His providing superb pork loin and fatty bacon made this terrine possible. Especially the part where he helpfully grinds the whole thing for me. We like him. Next stop on our little farmers’ market jaunt is José, the poultry monger. In between chopping rabbits’ heads off, he calls you “princess” and serves you with the best smoked duck breasts. We like him too.

Once back home, it’s Terrine-Making Time. If you exclude cooking time, this may be the quickest terrine recipe ever (provided you got the grinding done by somebody else, but who doesn’t like a convenient short-cut?). I used Reynaud’s recipe with a few adjustements.

In a bowl, put 300g ground pork loin, 300g ground fatty bacon, 200g ground fresh duck meat (a big magret without the skin), 2 tbsp green peppercorns, 5cl Pinot des Charentes or white Port wine if you’re flush, 1/2tsp orange zest, and 3 onions which you will have chopped and cooked over low heat in a scant tbsp of olive oil. Season with 15g of salt (what Michael Ruhlman would call “aggressive seasoning”), and mix everything with your handy-pandies until all the elements are gracefully and harmoniously distributed throughout.

In a terrine dish (heirloom Alsacian dish for me, because I have connections - hi mom), pack in an even layer 1/3 of the forcemeat (about 300g), then cover with overlapping slices of smoked duck breasts (100g). I chose a pattern reminiscent of the Venetian tilings in San Marco, but that’s up to you (c’est vous qui voyez). Add another 1/3 of the forcemeat, repeat the tiling with another 100g of sliced duck, and finish with the last third of forcemeat. Close the terrine, sit it in a water bath like you would a cheesecake and bung the whole shebang in a preheated oven (350°F) for 1:45. When you take it out of the oven, uncover, put a piece of cardboard wrapped in alu foil the size of the meatloaf on top of it, and weigh it down overnight with a few heavy cans of baked beans (for instance).

Note that the terrine will have shrunk from the sides of the dish, and that it will be bathing in liquid fat. But fear not, o my minions, and under no circumstance pour it out. I would have to come and spank you with my wooden spoon. After one night in the refridg’, the fat will have solidified in a gorgeously white and greasy cork, and underneath, a scrumptious jelly will have formed. The jelly is perhaps the best part [sigh].

This terrine can be kept in the fridge for three or four days, and is best served after a couple of days, giving the flavours time to hug properly. And now buzz off, o my minions, for I must go to bed. Or check on the terrine. Or fetch my wooden spoon.