A recipe for sea ducks that doesn’t require a rock

loading...
For the most part, people born and raised in this neck of the woods were introduced to game dinners soon after cutting teeth. It comes with the territory. Seldom, then, is anyone late for supper when the menu features venison or partridge breast or moose steaks or rabbit…
Sign in or Subscribe to view this content.

For the most part, people born and raised in this neck of the woods were introduced to game dinners soon after cutting teeth. It comes with the territory. Seldom, then, is anyone late for supper when the menu features venison or partridge breast or moose steaks or rabbit meat. Likewise, it’s safe to say no one has to be called to the table twice when waterfowl such as Canada goose, black duck, teal, or wood duck is being served.

Here, my youngest offspring, Hope – so named because my wife and I hoped she was the last of the lot – comes to mind. Not long after she’d had her fill of Pablum, Hope became especially fond of black duck. So much so that when she saw ducks flying over the river, which flows behind our house, she would come running to tell me. Come to think of it, my oldest daughter, Julie, never had to be force-fed, either. On Saturday mornings, when the house often was saturated with the aroma of beans baking around partridge or woodcock breasts, she would sit on the stairs and cry because the meal wouldn’t be ready until suppertime. Mainers, those girls, from stem to stern.

But seeing as special mention has been made regarding waterfowl as table fare, let’s draw a bead on sea ducks and their way-off-target reputation of being unfit to eat. Even though you may never have signed your name to a duck stamp, chances are you’ve heard the oft-recited recipe for cooking sea ducks: “Place the duck on a rock and cook in a hot oven for four hours – then throw the duck away and eat the rock.”

That, kind reader, is pure poppycock; an old wives’ tale spouted assertively by people who, obviously, never tasted the thick, succulent breast meat of, let’s say, a properly prepared eider duck. To prove that, I hereupon offer a recipe that will bag the common fallacy that sea ducks are “fish with feathers.” To the contrary, sea ducks – eiders, scoters (coots), old squaws – are not fish eaters. The ducks feed on mollusks, i.e., mussels, whelks, periwinkles, the latter being a staple in the diets of black ducks that spend winters on salt water.

Before we begin marinating and slicing and simmering, however, understand that my reason for writing this unlikely column is double-barreled: to deep-six the aforementioned old wives’ tale and to reduce the wasting of sea ducks, particularly eiders, occurring with the ever-increasing interest in sea-duck hunting. The season is long, October to mid-January, daily limits are generous – seven on eiders, four on coots – and because the ducks respond well to decoys, hunters usually have ample shooting opportunity. Unfortunately, not all of the ducks shot are being disposed of on dinner tables. Although the daily limit on old squaws is seven, the smaller sea ducks are seldom hunted.

Now, first things first. The recipe, “Sea Ducks Jerome,” recently was sent to me by Clarissa Trasko of Penobscot. No stranger to rigging eider decoys, Clarissa hunts with her husband, Fred, a fisheries biologist at the Green Lake National Fish Hatchery in Ellsworth. Clarissa said she received the recipe from Fred Kircheis, a fisheries biologist with the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife. Obviously, Fred isn’t averse to visiting offshore gunning grounds in the darkest and coldest hour preceding dawn.

Although some women would sooner tell their age than part with favorite recipes, Clarissa said “fire away” when I suggested giving Sea Ducks Jerome a shot here. I trust the fisheries biologists won’t feel they’ve been foul-hooked. Also, my apologies for any offense to Jerome.

Fillet the breast meat from several eiders. Marinate the meat for 48 hours in buttermilk contained in glassware or crockery. Afterward, cut the meat into strips. Melt one-quarter pound of butter in a large pan, add three tablespoons of red currant jelly, the juice of half a lemon, a teaspoonful of dry mustard, and one cup of bourbon.

Admittedly, pouring the latter into a pot may be painful, but, believe me, you won’t regret it.

After bringing the mixture to a hard boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, add the meat and cook for three to five minutes, depending on how you like meat done.

The recipe doesn’t call for it, but soaking the filleted breasts overnight in a pot containing cold water and a tablespoonful of baking soda will remove most of the blood from the meat, thereby reducing the “gamey” taste.

Admittedly, my culinary expertise does not extend beyond toasting English muffins and making instant coffee. However, my wife’s abilities with pots and pans are impressive. Better yet, Nancy doesn’t shy away from cooking whatever I bring home from the hills or, in this case, the ocean. So it was that a week or so ago she prepared Sea Duck Jerome.

Simply put, it was delicious; by far, the best serving of sea duck I ever stuck a fork into. Without hesitation, I would describe the tender, juicy flavor as similar to roast beef. Allowing, however, that individual tastes differ, I wouldn’t expect everyone to give Sea Ducks Jerome such high rating. But I’m sure anyone who tries the recipe will agree that sea ducks have been greatly maligned as being unfit to eat.

After finishing the delectable meal, which was seasoned throughout with expressions of epicurean delight, Nancy asked, “Well, what do you think?” To which I replied, “I think it’s too bad the sea duck season has ended.”


Have feedback? Want to know more? Send us ideas for follow-up stories.

comments for this post are closed

By continuing to use this site, you give your consent to our use of cookies for analytics, personalization and ads. Learn more.