Confiture

My wife is an exquisite cook, as well as an impeccable shopper, a trait that she may have learned from her late father. Can spot a deal, knows and cares what things cost. So when she spotted the duck confit at this ridiculous price, at a store that shall remain nameless, she pounced. Brought home two large packages of legs, cooked one up for us and it was delicious.

I found a friend with extra freezer space. I went back to the market yesterday morning, Leslie in the afternoon and we sealed the deal. Bought out everything they had. Swore the law of omerta, we would not disclose the location of the store, even to close relatives, under mortal penalty.

That lasted about a day. We were both feeling guilty for being chazers. Leslie called up Connie and Dixon and told them that we were going to come over and cook for them. She even squealed about where the swag came from. Some mafiosa.

Had our sit down last night. Leslie and Dixon are natural cooks, like Astaire and Charise, they glide around the kitchen with supreme confidence. I stay out of their way.

I wish I had the cooking gene but I don't, I was born with the eating gene. It was wonderful watching them both work.

Connie is also a cook, and a baker, but tonight she played bartender and made drinks.

Delightful meal. Duck confit with cracklings on polenta. Dixon made a nice reduction sauce. Fresh organic green beans with pine nuts and a wonderful salad with fresh tomatoes from their garden on the side.

Dessert was fresh strawberries with chopped basil and precious balsamic vinegar that the Fish brought back from Firenze. Perfect balance.

We ate out on the patio, a wonderful summer's eve. Bob the dog joined us.

Great meal. I did the dishes. Many thanks to our delightful hosts.

Makes me miss the days when the Fallbrook gastronomes would get together and prepare epic feasts, trying to out do each other, like on truffle night. We all just drifted apart, went our separate ways. Sad.

Not sure how I will be feeling after I eat sixty four more duck legs.