I spent halftime of the Super Bowl asking Amy, what kind of damn music is this?

And eating yummy duck.

I’m not so much of a fan, but the faux Frenchy is, so I attempt duck occasionally. After the power outages associated with the ex-cyclone, I secured an inexpensive duck, and thought it would be suitable for Super Bowl Monday, what with Sorenne at school.

I butterflied the bird, marinated overnight, then slow roasted for four hours beginning at 6:30 am, and finished up with an apparently too high shot of 450F to crisp things. The bird was basted near the end with a sauce of orange, soy, honey and ginger.

Temperature-verified to be safe.

And I made it back from the last Kansas visit with my groovy fat separator, a key tool when making gravy in a hurry.

Delicious.