Ah. Fifty...yes. I was fifty once.
And I had Peking Duck once (the pancakes, the scallions, the whole deal)
at home. My son cooked his way across several continents right here in
my kitchen, shadowing his sister, who was travelling from France to
Italy to Germany to Russia to China to Tibet etc. We had the duck
hanging overnight from strings over the kitchen sink (in the wind of the
open window). Whatever did the neighbours think? Family and friends.
Friends and family. It's what there is. Happy fifty, David.
Ursula
David Ritchie wrote:
Sunday was quiet and dark and rainy and didn't perk up until we played tennis. Then came a short visit to a party our architect friend had invited us to and dinner with other friends, who had gone all out, buying foie gras--the real thing, cooked lightly in fat and brandy--and ducks, which she served Peking style, with pancakes and scallions and plum sauce. The fabulous deserts from Saturday were still unfinished, so they did another round.
Altogether, I recommend turning fifty. You too can have this pleasure if you just remember carefully and regularly to whack your liver and grow young. Just follow the instructions in the book.
David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon
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