The first time I was in Paris, a few years ago, I pretty much subsisted on confit de canard. To me, life was good if I was tucking into a plateful of crispy-skinned duck leg, with its succulent meat, accompanied by some sauteed potatoes, and maybe some braised red cabbage or a simple green salad. A piece of duck confit might also show up in a dish of cassoulet, though I was more like to have that Stateside at a French restaurant, and never tried it in Paris until this year. The duck confit was never fancy, nor should it be. This is a simple food stuff, as glorious and flavourful as it is, using meat that has been preserved using ancient preservation techniques. Essentially it is duck legs that have been slowly cooked preserved in rendered duck fat - once the meat has cooked in a dutch oven or similar vessel you can store the whole legs in a large jar that has been filled to the brim with the duck fat, which will then solidify and preserve the meat. I've been threatening to actually make my own from scratch for years, though have yet to get around to it. My sister made it very successfully last year at her house, and I know it is just something you need to get around to and invest the time in. To serve you simply take a leg of duck, and scrape as much fat off as you can before grilling, broiling, or pan frying, until it is heated through and the skin gets nice and crispy. Two years ago I had a fanastic meal at Chez Robert & Louise, that favourite haunt of Tony Bourdain groupies and many a Parisian. Dinner that night was six escargots followed by a plate of duck confit and the restaurants excellent sauteed potatoes. I posted a fairly glowing review afterwards on Chowhound, and sent my sister and her husband there a few months later, and was eagerly looking forward to when I might get to visit again.
This past February I was in Paris to celebrate my birthday, for an all-too-short four and a half days, and wondered if I might get a chance to swing by for a meal. I weighed up the pros and cons of going to somewhere I'd been before when time was all to short to try something new. My newly-minted fiancee Tamara had also had R&L recommended to her, so we trekked over to the Marais district and up rue de Vielle Temple to the restaurant.
Inside we were told there was a table for two for us downstairs. I was a little surprised to notice they'd done some remodelling upstairs, and added seating in their cellar. Upstairs the tiny kitchen that had once been used to prepare omelettes and potatoes had now expanded and there was a battery of cooks in there. I must say that downstairs looked great, despite my slight dissappointment of not being seated in the main room upstairs. We got seated at the end of a communal table, and looked at the menu. I already knew I'd be getting the duck confit, and Tamara decided to get an entrecote steak. We also ordered a grilled country sausage as a starter.
Long story short, my meal of duck confit was a disaster (I'll say the sausage was very nice, but the service was appaling, including taking ages to tell us the bottle of wine we ordered was not in their cellar, and then charging us for it later in addition to the one we drank). The duck skin was pale, fatty, and flabby. It seemed to have been steamed instead of grilled, or else heated slowly in very indirect heat (perhaps it was from a fresh batch of duck confit, taken immediately from the cooking vessel?). To add insult to injury, the sauteed potatoes I was served were made of small boiling potatoes, not the variety they normally use (that I'd had two years prior, and were actually served to the couple beside us). Who makes a successful sauteed potato with that variety of spud? Oh, and there was no dressing on my salad. Now, often I don't like dressing on my salad, but I do like the kind of standard "house dressing" that most French bistrots tend to serve on on their salad - a light oil, wine vinegar, dijon mustard, and salt & pepper.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. The previous night, too, I'd had a similarly cooked duck confit at a humble little south-western bistrot on rue de Cheche Midi, which I'll not even go into, but had put that down to fluke. Honestly, I left Paris wondering if there was some new fashion in cooking duck confit, and swearing not to try it again for some time. I'm going to Balthazar in SoHo next week, and I know duck confit is on the menu. Should I try it and hopefully become a believer again?
