So before I begin this little story, let me say, up front, you're all permitted
to laugh at what I did today. There is a group of women in our church
congrigation that like to get together once a month for a book club and a light
dinner. Emily attends when she is able. For some reason, Emily agreed to host
the book club meeting for this month at our house, and neglected to tell me
until Sunday night. The book this month is set in France, so Emily thought it
would be fun to have a light dinner featuring some of the common foods found in
this particular region of France, and one of those foods was smoked duck.
Emily asked me if I would be willing to try smoking a duck outside on my
smoker, and like the insane, sleep-deprived, fire-loving guy that I am, I said
yes. So, she went out and got the duck, and we read several articles warning
of potential pitfalls and suggesting things we needed to make sure were done
and so on. So, I defrosted the duck yesterday, poked the skin all over with a
sharp skewer to allow the fat to drain as it cooked, and seasoned it heavily
with salt and pepper, then let it dry out in the fridge for a few hours. I got
my charcoal lit, and put the lit coals on top of a pile of un-lit coals,
thinking this would keep the fire going for a longer time. I placed the water
pan on the middle rack of my smoker, poured in the lit coals, covered the top,
and let it get good and hot. Then, when I thought the coals were burned down
to the right level of heat, I tossed on a half dozen or so of dry chunks of
apple wood, then put the duck on the cooking rack, covered it, and let it go.
I came back 10 minutes later to find the chunks of apple wood had caught fire
and were slowly burning down. I allowed a few more minutes, thinking the
flames wouldn't last long and hoping there would be no ill effects on the duck.
When I came back again, the flames had become so high that the under side of
my duck was in flames. I quickly removed the top half of my smoker, thinking
to seperate the food from the flames, but the flames continued, and became even
higher. I ran in the house, got a pitcher of water, and dumped it on the
roaring inferno, and was instantly met with flames so high that I almost caught
on fire myself. Fortunately, this did not last long, and the flames quickly
died down. I'm still trying to figure out exactly what happened. The only
thing I can figure out is that the rendering fat from my duck ended up in a
water pan that was made so hot from the small flames and coals below, that the
fat itself caught fire. That explains why I was nearly engulfed in flames when
I tried to put them out with the water. It took me a few minutes to stop
shaking, but I'm OK except for a few singed hairs. I'll bring the duck in
shortly and see if it is at all salvagable, but my hopes are not high.
Fortunately, the market where Emily found the duck also sells roasted duck,
much like many supermarkets sell roasted chickens ready to take home and eat.
It's just too bad that we likely wasted $16 on a duck we probably won't get to
eat, only to turn around and spend another $20 for one that's already made, not
to mention nearly a half bag worth of charcoal that I can no longer use. And
this comes during a difficult week of losing more sleep than usual with the
baby, and a pending dental appointment that I'm sure will not be much fun.
Yikes! And again, it is OK to laugh. I'm not hurt, and everyone and
everything is OK.
Jon