Last weekend I had the distinct honor of attending my 2nd duck dinner. And let me tell you, there's nothing like it.
The tradition began in 1974 in upstate NY when a University of Buffalo PhD student rescued a handful of baby ducks from an imprint study. Having escaped their destiny in a fiery furnace, they were given a home in the basement of a student house. Before long, the fluffy chicks turned into smelly, messy, somewhat crappy pets. The decision was eventually made to slaughter some of the birds, just in time for a birthday celebration (ironically, the birthday belonged to their liberator).
That first duck dinner was the beginning of a long-standing tradition. Every year since, those present 35 years ago in Buffalo, reunite, along with their family and friends, to celebrate the duck.
This year's menu was stellar:
Appetizers
bubbly
Pâté from an Ithaca, New York farmers' market spread on Melba toast rounds with a dollop of fig preserves
Grilled baby artichokes with caper mint sauce
Mussels with Greek yogurt, capers and mint
Soup Course
Thai Three Melon Soup
Pasta Course
Roast turbot with asparagus veloute over tagliatelle
Palate Cleansing Course
Concord grape and rosemary sorbet
Main Course
Duck breasts with endive tarts
Salad Course
Salade Composee with ginger dressing
Dessert Course
Pavlova with lavender cream and berries
Double chocolate goodness
With expanded waistlines and loosened belts, the celebration ended the same way it always has: with a long walk.
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