When will I ever learn? How many times am I going to ask myself that question, or how many times are others going to ask me that question?
I’m only human, I have my frailties and weaknesses, I’m not perfect! I’ll be the first to admit it. Sigh…. I don’t feel so good. I’m at home “sick” today as I’m not feeling well enough to go into work. And I have no one to blame except myself…. and that duck. That damn duck!!!!
Last night I made Duck Porridge, always a tasty treat. I bought a whole roast duck (uncut) from the duck shop and asked for 3 extra necks. Now in my book, the book of “Merrills Nonsense”, the mark of a good roast duck can be put down to one singular factor. The skin. Thats right… screw the flesh, flesh is overrated! The skin of a good duck has to be plump, loose, puffy, and fatty. It should not be tight, fat free, and stuck to the flesh. Good duck skin is puffy and fluffy like a good quilt should be, a sponge full of succulent fatty oils and juices. Mmmmm…
This duck was perfect, a piece of poultry covered in loose, puffy, succulent, fatty skin. Chewing on the skin was like wringing a sponge of fatty goodness into your mouth. Ohhh it was heavenly. When I purchased the duck, I asked for 3 extra necks that I would normally boil with the porridge for extra flavour. Normally, the necks are scrawny, tight little things that are of little value besides making stock.
But these…. these were something else. I don’t know where these ducks came from, but they were most likely obese. Fat, juicy ducks that probably got caught and killed because their big, fat, lardicious duck asses could not escape in time. Even their necks were absolutely covered in rolls of fat, juicy skin. Something which I find incredibly rare.
Even though these were ear marked for the porridge, I couldn’t resist ripping off all that skin and fatty goodness from all 4 necks, and scoffing them down straight away. Such pure succulent joy it was. I then proceeded to flay the flesh off that duck. Cutting it open into a pot so that its watery and oil filled insides would pour out into the pot to be boiled with the rice.
As more of the flesh was sheared from the bones, I kept scoffing down more and more skin and fat. I hit the gluttony pause button only because at the rate I was going, there would be no more to enjoy with the porridge! So after the tasty porridge was done, I resumed the scoffing and slathering of all things unhealthy.
To cut a long story short, an hour after dinner, I wanted to die. I was filled to my gills with fat and grease, and it began slowly climbing up my oesophagus. I took a peppermint tea, 2 mylantas to no avail. After a few hours, (most of that spent sitting on the throne trying to purge my sins from me), I gave in and threw up. Gosh it was awful….
The whole night I couldn’t sleep, feeling that oil and fat sloshing around inside me. I woke up this morning still feeling absolutely awful. Why do I keep doing this to myself!!??? Sigh… animal skin… my Achilles heel… how can any man, any mere mortal resist?