Duckflesh

A few spoon-bills were also to be seen, and lovers of duckflesh never turn up their noses at a spoon-bill.

What would the reader think to seeing a farmer traveling to market with as many ducks as could be crowded into more than the space of the park between the City Hall and the postoffice in New York City—a mass of perhaps two city blocks of duckflesh and feathers? That was what was driven past us on the Grand Canal one day.

We had with us some dried duckflesh and some fruit, and resting at mid-day under the shade of a willow of immense age, we made as good a repast as the heat and the moisture permitted—I speak of myself and Bruce—heat and cramped limbs, apparently, troubling our companion as little as hunger, toil or storm.

As for what “Hardshell” terms “the bad stuff” exported by me, I might mention that out of 30 ducks sent to the depot on trial only two were rejected on account of light weight. One of these was killed three days afterwards, and when dressed for the oven turned the scale at 3 ℔. 10 oz. For quality nothing better in the way of duckflesh could have been described by the most fastidious epicure.

The general appraisers think that imported Chinese duckflesh when dried, salted and packed (with or without peanut oil) in tin cans is a clear case of “prepared or preserved meat,” and dutiable as such.

Among those who make regular trips to the river and have had at least a taste of duckflesh this season are: Herb Nelson, […]

Vulp emitted a low growl of annoyance when he realised that for this season at least the island would yield no savoury meal of duckflesh.

Double duck an all-day, two-stage job, four ducks for four people. First brace of birds roasted plain, slightly underdone, forks inside them to spread the heat. Then, roasted duckflesh striped from carcasses, chopped fine, mixed with onion, sage, fennel, cognac, touch of special sausage meat purchased by Parodi from a Tuscan aunt in Yonkers.