Comfort Me with Confit, Two
Posted By bbinns on May 7, 2009

My lard is very, very good. But a little duck fat adds depth and dimension to confit.
But now, it’s back to fat-world: Once my lard has been strained and clarified, by removing the juices from the bottom (save for ethereal bean soup!), I am ready to make the confit itself. Most experts advise a little duck fat, to complement and round out the flavors, so I always keep a few tubs of D’Artagnan duck fat on hand. It is slightly yellower then my Ossabaw lard, and as I scoop in every last drop from the container, this new fat makes trails in the creamy white; it reminds me of whisking up a classic French genoise. At cooking school in England, I knew my genoise mixture was ready when I could write a “B” for Brigit with the foam trailing from my whisk. Only this isn’t a sugar-in-egg emulsion.

If this potentially unappealing image doesn't make you hungry, you've never eaten confit.
Rinsing the salt cure from the meat is a delicate process: I want to take away most—but not all—of the salt, but I don’t want to meat to absorb too much water. So I give each piece a quick massage under running water, then they’re onto a clean towel. Press another towel over the top, blot, press, and the meat is ready to go into the lard, which I’ve warmed to 200F on the stove. Now it’s into the oven, again at a starting point of 240F. Again, I adjust and maintain my barely-bubbling cauldron—oops, Le Creuset— at 200F for about two hours, which past efforts have shown me is the right amount of time for 3+ pounds of meat. The cubes should be pale (actually, rather grey-ish) and giving to the touch, not falling-apart-tender.

Confit cubes, straight out of the lard and headed for the broiler.

Crispy on the outside, smooth as silk inside.

These two mother-lodes of texture and porkiness will age beautifully, just as I try to.

Ah, to be young in the springtime. Or, if not, I am comforted by confit.
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