This is a two-day process. You’ll need to know how much your duck legs weigh, so if you don’t have a scale, pay attention to what the package says before tossing the wrapping.  If you do have a scale, weigh the legs.  You need 2 teaspoons of salt per pound of meat.   

Eighteen to twenty-four hours before you plan to cook the confit, rinse the duck legs with cool water and pat dry.  Note the weight of the legs.  Mine totaled 3 pounds, meaning I needed 6 teaspoons of salt. I use Maldon Sea Salt.

Lay the legs in a single layer in a clean glass baking dish or similar vessel. Roll the legs in salt, then scatter over the thyme, bay leaf, shallot, garlic, pepper, and cloves. Cover with foil and refrigerate 18-24 hours, but no longer–the legs will be too salty.

Now rinse the legs but don’t saturate them. You’ll notice the flesh is darker and firmer. That’s fine. They should be. Dry the legs on a clean dishcloth and place them on a clean baking sheet. Allow them to come to room temperature for an hour.  (At this point, you wait another 24 hours to cook if you wish. Honestly, I never have.)

Unless your kitchen is extremely warm, it’s a good idea to take the duck fat out of the fridge and allow it to come to room temperature, too.

A word about dealing with cleanup: duck fat cannot go down the drain. It’s messy stuff. I use reams of paper towels and a sprayer filled with distilled white vinegar. The vinegar is food safe but cuts the grease. I wipe all utensils, bowls, etc with vinegar before washing them in hot soapy water.

Okay, ready?  Ideally you’ve got an enameled cast-iron pot that can take the legs in a single layer.  Barring that, the heaviest pot you have that won’t crowd the legs will work.  I use a 5-quart Staub, the most expensive pot I own. It might well be the most expensive thing I own, period.

Over low, low heat, lay the legs gently into your pot. Now carefully melt your fat over. Judy Rodgers tells us the ratio of duck fat to meat is 2 cups fat to every 1 pound meat.  So my 3 pounds of meat needed 6 cups of fat, which I added gradually for demonstration purposes.

The next few photos are less than lovely. As I taught myself to confit from books, I am keenly aware of the visuals I lacked. Here are the photos that would have helped me.Raw duck in its fat is hard to prettify. But life isn’t a continual beauty contest.

Because we’re looking at long-keeping here, we want the legs fully submerged in the fat. Do not stint.  You’re better off with too much fat than not enough. If you cannot adequately cover your duck legs with fat after cooking, they won’t cook properly or preserve safely.  Your legs should look like this after all the fat has melted.

This will take time.  Don’t rush it by cranking the heat. Reaching this stage could take over an hour. Sort the laundry.  Have some lunch.  Clean up the kitchen.

Once the legs are fully submerged, bring the fat to a gentle simmer. If you have a thermometer, Judy Rodgers suggests holding at 200-205 degrees. My stovetop runs hot. At 175 degrees it simmers merrily, so I hold there.  Those of you without thermometers, fear not. Aim for a gentle simmer.  Better slow than fast. The goal here is slow, slow, slow.

You’ll need to skim periodically.  I use a cheap Chinese skimmer, which I wipe clean with paper towels.

The legs will take between 90 minutes and two hours to cook. As you close in on the 90 minute mark, ready your storage vessel. I use a 2 gallon glass canning jar, which I bought at the drugstore.  It seals with replaceable rubber gaskets. You need something you can sterilize–glass, food grade plastic (which is hell to clean), porcelain, ceramic.  A lid with a good seal is a must. So is a vessel with a wide mouth.  Trying to wedge duck legs into a narrow opening later will drive you mad. Wash with boiling soapy water, rinse thoroughly, and dry either in your dishwasher or oven. I use my oven’s “warm” setting.

After 90 minutes, fetch tongs and lift a leg to test a bit. Rodgers says the meat should be:

“tender but still resilient.”

Remember meat just out the pot will be a bit tough.  You don’t want to cook this until it’s falling off the bone–it’ll be overcooked.  You want the duck just done.

Turn off the heat and allow the confit to settle for ten minutes.

We’re in the final stretch. This last part is a pain, but hang in there. You need to be fully focused, okay?  Turn off your cell phone. Take your pain meds, feed the kitty, park your kids in front of Sesame Street.

Mindful that your storage vessel is warm and so is the confit, be careful.  Place the pot on a sturdy surface. Put the storage jar alongside. Have paper towels handy.  Using tongs, lift each leg into the jar. Now place a strainer over the jar–mine comes from Daisoo, the Japanese Dollar store–and ladle the fat through the strainer over the legs.  Do this until you get to the very bottom of the pot, where the thick stuff settled. This is called gelee. Don’t put it in your jar–it’s highly perishable and will spoil your confit.  Instead, spoon it out and either save it separately for stew, soups, or spread it on bread without sharing.

Okay, are the legs covered with liquid fat?  Great!  Allow this to cool down for about 45 minutes, then seal your jar.  Label, date, refrigerate.

Now it will keep for three months. Really, if you were careful, it’ll keep for six.  But if you didn’t take care, I don’t need your survivors hitting me with lawsuits, so we’ll say three months.

Clean up.  Pour yourself a drink.  You rock.

I plan to eat my confit in November, when my birthday, um, lands… and will demonstrate it then, but if you cannot wait, here’s how to eat yours:

Pull it from the fridge a couple hours ahead of time so the fat can soften. Then, with very clean hands, reach into the jar and pull the legs free.  If you don’t plan to eat all of it at once, be sure the remainder is covered in fat and eat within the week.

To eat, set the pieces fat side down in a skillet, ideally cast iron, and crisp about 9-10 minutes.  Flip to flesh side and warm about 5 minutes.

Eat with potatoes (fried in duck fat) and a green salad.