“Mom I love you and I’m so happy that you’re my mom. You always cook such good food. If I were one of my friends. I would come to your house everyday.” Those were the words of my son D’Angelo after he tasted the breast of the jerk duck that I had just pulled out of the oven. I myself is still at a loss for words after tasting and devouring  this duck. I am in desperate need of an explanation. Should I demand one? I mean…why is duck not consumed more frequently. Why is it not listed or included on food charts? Is it a forbidden bird? Is it toxic? Why isn’t everyone jumping through hoops to get a taste of the awesome bird? Why aren’t we eating duck if not everyday…at least once per week.  Duck has such a unique flavor, it is unbelievable!

Initially I had marinated the duck which should have been on the menu for Thanksgiving. The quote “everything happens for a reason” is meaningful and factual. The roasted duck never made it to the Thanksgiving table. Even though all my other authentic dishes were superb, my guests were a little disappointed that there was no roasted duck being served. On Thanksgiving Day I cooked what my body would allow me to cook. I listened to my body and relaxed as soon as my body gave instructions to do so.  You have to listen to your body. Anyway, I am no longer disappointed that I hadn’t roasted this duck on Thanksgiving Day because we would have been fighting each other for the duck. Why? One duck would not have been enough to serve my guests. I would have had to roast at least five ducks and quartered them for each person. You have to understand, I had a house full of guests on Thanksgiving day. Without a doubt, the turkey would have remained on the back burner and everyone would have gravitated towards the roasted duck. Believe me!

I don’t know if it is the Jamaican blood that rushes through my veins, but I’m a fanatic for jerk seasoning. I jerk, not all, but almost every single meat that has made its way into my kitchen aka my sanctuary. Jerk Seasoning adds depths of flavors and spiciness to each and every single bite. I prefer to have my dishes highly seasoned and I have already received accolades of being the season lady.  In my opinion, the level of  “spicicity”  in a jerk marinade is unparallel to that of any other marinades. (By the way, I just created the word “spicicity” because it sounds so darn good. If it already exist, I don’t know of it…never heard of it… but I’m gonna run with it right now).  I caressed, massage and passionately distributed the well deserved love that only a jerk marinade can offer, all over my gorgeous duck.  It would make all the difference. Most roasted duck recipes calls for a honey and orange juice glaze. Really? Nah boo boo, not for me today. I was loving my duck and I knew my duck would love me back.

Roasting a duck is labor intensive, but when you love what you do, and are as passionate about cooking as I am, four hours pass so rapidly, that it appears as if it were only two minutes. I labored for love, yes I did. The fat rendered from the duck was priceless. Duck fat is awesome and I used it to roast the potatoes that was  served with the duck . It was a combination of red skin, purple potatoes and sweet yams that I simply cut into wedges. You should have seen the look on my son D’Angelo’s face as he used the potatoes to sop up the duck fat. The roasted potatoes were crispy….and tender….and buttery and OMG! Even my dog Rocco enjoyed his roasted duck. Rocco always seems to be chasing the ducks when they walk through the yard. He can become so territorial at times. D’Angelo called out to him, “Come Rocco, come and taste the duck that you are always chasing!”

After serving my grandma, myself and D’Angelo, I contemplated if I should save some of the roasted duck for my other son Robert. I wanted him to taste it, but there was only half of the duck remaining.  What if he enjoyed it as much as I did and ate the entire half? I was eating my dinner while these thought raced through my head. Now I understand how my dog Rocco feels when he is enjoying a bone  and one of us tries to get close to him.  He growls as if someone is really going to take his bone. While I was contemplating eating the other half of the duck, Robert walked into my bedroom. I was eating in bed. I held up a piece of my duck wing and said, “taste this.” He took one bite, walked around to the other side of the bed where my bed tray was,  nonchalantly picked up my duck breast and ate it. Can you believe that! Here I was… scheming how to devour the remainder of the duck and he already seems to be in love. I know, I know,  I should have never let him taste it, but he’s my child ….and I had to….that’s what mothers do. I really wanted him to taste it but I didn’t want him to have it all.

From now on, I will roast at least two duck for my family. By doing so I can always enjoy one whole duck all to myself.