No. 2060

Mallard Ducks with Celery half-Glaze-Roasted

Canards Sauvages, Mallard Rotis an Celeri Demi-Glace

Truss some mallard ducks for roasting (No. 179), and when cooked dish up as the others. They may be served either whole or else cut up into six pieces or the fillets only it they be whole; place the garnishing around; should they be dressed in a circle then fill in the center with a garnishing composed of cardoons or celery cut in half inch squares, blanched and cooked with chopped beef marrow also blanched, and afterward drained; put them into a little half-glaze sauce (No. 413), and let simmer for a few moments.

← No. 2059 Mallard Ducks Roasted and Broiled—Wild Duck & Waterfowl No. 2061 Salmis of Mallard Ducks with Madeira →

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer writes in shorthand for a professional brigade: the roasting, the sauce and the trussing all live at other numbers in the book. What is actually given here is the garnish, and that is where the attention should go.

The hinge: the garnish is finished, not cooked, in the sauceCelery or cardoon and marrow are blanched and cooked through separately, then warmed in a little demi-glace only long enough to coat. Stewing them in the sauce turns the celery limp and lets the marrow melt out into grease.
Half-glaze means demi-glaceNo. 413 is Ranhofer's half-glaze, a reduced brown sauce whose composition the book gives at that number. A good reduced veal or duck stock, thickened only by reduction and mounted with a little butter, gives much the same result. The recipe calls for no more than 'a little', so a small quantity is enough.
Trussing (No. 179)The book keeps its method at that number; in general terms this means wings folded back, legs tied close and the bird trussed compactly so the breast cooks evenly. A short skewer or a loop of butcher's twine is enough.
The birdsIn the United States wild mallard cannot legally be bought; it reaches the kitchen only from a licensed hunter (elsewhere wild duck is sold in season). Farmed mallard, or a small Pekin duck, is the practical substitute, though farmed birds carry far more fat and less of the liver-and-iron flavour the dish is balanced against.
Roasting and donenessA mallard is a small, lean bird; the book leaves time and heat to No. 179, but a short roast in a hot oven will give the rare breast at which this style of service was generally aimed. Cooked to the 165F internal temperature now recommended for poultry and wild game, the breast will be dry and grey, so decide which you are aiming for before you start.
CardoonsThe thistle relative eaten as a stalk, still sold in Italian and North African markets in winter. Peel off the strings, keep the cut pieces in acidulated water or they blacken, and blanch until tender — considerably longer than celery. Celery hearts are the easier option Ranhofer already allows.
Beef marrowAsk a butcher for split marrow bones and push the marrow out whole. Blanching in barely simmering salted water for a few minutes firms it so the half-inch pieces hold their shape; drain well, or the sauce breaks.
Yield and presentationOne mallard serves one generously or two modestly. "Dressed in a circle" means the carved fillets or jointed pieces arranged around the rim of a platter with the garnish heaped in the middle — a service style that suits a hot dish carved in the kitchen.

A Little History

Charles Ranhofer ran the kitchen at Delmonico's in New York, and The Epicurean (1894) is essentially that restaurant's working reference, which is why this entry reads like a note to a cook who already knows Nos. 179 and 413 by heart. Wild ducks were then a legitimate commercial commodity: market hunters supplied American restaurants with mallard, canvasback and teal by the barrel, and the great menus of the 1880s and 1890s list them by species the way a modern menu lists cuts of beef. The Lacey Act of 1900 and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 ended that trade, and with it the ready supply that had made such a dish routine in restaurant cooking. The garnish itself is thoroughly French: cardoons with marrow in a brown sauce is a classic nineteenth-century pairing, the marrow's richness set against the slight bitterness of the thistle stalk, and it makes a robust match for the strong, dark flesh of a wild bird.}