Duck, duck…duck!

As a child in grade school, I sat on the playground in circles with folks my own young age and waited, with eager anticipation, to be the chosen one. One after the next, they called it out. Duck! Duck! Duck! Duck!

Even at this fare early age when we wanted so badly to fit in, we each secretly wanted to be the unique “Goose!”, to be the one who was picked out of the circle, called something special. I even have some midwest friends of mine that insist that as children they played “duck- duck- grey duck” and not “duck- duck- goose”. I know, I think it’s weird as well. Yet the principle remains the same.

However, all games aside, this dinner set a new precedent. Exit childhood whimsy, of running in circles. No playground fancy could prepare one for the DUCK WELLINGTON.

An overindulgent feast of fowl, the duck wellington is a true thing of beauty. Layers of duck liver terrine, duck confit, and seared duck breast wrapped in puff pastry. Hours to make, minutes to enjoy sopped in sweet satiation. Step aside, geese and grey ducks. This game is for serious contenders only. I am pretty sure I’d chase someone in circles for more.

Duck Wellington
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