Having recently purchased a spit roaster and with just one week until Miriam moves to her next placement as a WWOOFer, I decided to christen the spit and celebrate her time here. I invited a local around to join in and also to thank him for some of the help he has given me. So into the freezer I dive and drag out the duck that Miriam so proficiently plucked during our trip to Ballarat. Nice looking duck it was, not overly fatty to the eye, good meat colour, clean skin. So it was decided that said plucka would be the meal of the day. We set the spit up in our newly established alfresco zone and threaded the duck on the rod. Once the heat beads were at their optimum cooking heat, we put the duck on the cradle. Now came the fun bit, watching the duck rock and roll while enjoying the lovely outdoors and good company. We almost began to sing, "the wings on the duck go round and round". We allowed said duck to cook at a low to medium heat for 4 hours. When we checked to see if it was ready, tummy's grumbling, lips smacking and many ooos and ahhhs over the lovely smell, the duck was still bleeding. GRRRRRR... so back on the cradle it went. another half hour and we gave it another look over. STILL NOT DONE. By this time we were ravenous and decided to toss the duck in the oven and finish it off. Once done, my friend got out the deadly weapons and began the task of disecting the duck, oops. Not happening too well, the duck should have been cooked with a stone. When the stone was cooked, we could eat that and toss the duck.. It was so tough that boot leather looked more appetising. Although disappointed, we couldn't help but laugh like little kids getting into mischief. Just one look from any of us would set us going again. This morning when I arose, I began cleaning up and once again duck jokes were on the menu, reminders of the ducking disaster abound with grease in all kinds of places. Moral of the story is: If you really want nice duck for dinner, go to a chinese restaurant.
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