How to Make Duck Prosciutto

My first order of business was to select the kind of duck breast I wanted to use. Most recipes I came across utilized smaller Muscovy breasts, which weigh in at about eight ounces each. My thinking—in usual hedonistic fashion—was the bigger the better, so I went with Magret duck breasts, which are almost twice the size and have a seductive, buttery crown of fat. They come from Moulard ducks, which are a cross between the Muscovy and Pekin varieties and commonly raised for foie gras, and thus have very rich flesh as a result of their grain-heavy diet. While I certainly wanted this fat to be a part of my finished product, to ensure that the cure penetrated the meat, I scored the cap in a crosshatch pattern.

Next came the cure itself; I decided on a mixture of one part sugar to two parts salt, as an all-salt cure can result in overwhelming salinity. I knew the curing period was the only window of time that I had to infuse the duck with flavor, so I added my flavoring agents of choice to the salt-sugar mixture. Doing this means that as moisture is drawn out of the cells, the salt that then enters takes these flavors along with it. Given the robust flavor of the bird, I knew it could stand up to some substantial additions. I wanted something classic that would add an aromatic, woodsiness to the duck, so I gathered juniper berries, fennel seed, white and black peppercorns, bay leaves, and coriander seeds. I added them all to a small skillet, and toasted them over low heat, stirring occasionally, until they began to give off their heady aromas. This took about 5 minutes, but I went by smell rather than time—and I looked for the juniper to start getting shiny as it released its oils. The contents of the pan then went into a spice grinder where a quick whir gave it the consistency of a coarse powder.

I used a scale to weigh out 400 grams of kosher salt, and 200 grams of regular granulated sugar, which I then whisked my spice blend into. I lined the bottom of my vessel with a layer of cure (I used these rectangular Lexan containers which seemed perfectly sized for the breasts, but any such receptacle will do) then came the breast, and more cure. I made sure to pour the cure all around the breast, as I wanted every surface of the meat to be completely submerged in this salty goodness.

I wrapped the whole thing tightly with plastic, and into the fridge it went for osmosis to work its magic. During the next few days, the breast basked in its cure. For my first test I utilized the industry-accepted cure time of 24 hours, but it turned out that the heftier size of my Magret breasts was significant enough to require a longer period; after further experimentation, the four-day cure seemed to be the winner.

After the prescribed time, the duck emerged from its savory cocoon: now a firm, slightly withered, deep crimson-colored version of its former self.

I rinsed it thoroughly with water, dried it well, and then sprinkled it with about a half teaspoon of black pepper. A cloak of cheesecloth, a sash of twine—and like a little chrysalis, it was ready to hang and be transformed.

For two weeks my dangling victual taunted me from the corner of the walk-in; I indulged in a squeeze here and a pinch there to monitor the progress, but like all good things, I knew it was worth the wait.

Finally the day came. I first weighed it to ensure proper moisture loss had occurred (30% loss is standard, but mine only lost about 18% of its original mass).

Then with bated breath, I unwrapped it. Thankfully, nothing had gone awry beneath the shroud. I sliced through the creamy layer of fat like chilled butter, and into the now-firm, burgundy flesh beneath. Tasting the final product was everything I anticipated; it was rich and slightly gamey, with the unmistakable essence of duck playing a starring role, and the lingering, toasted aroma of spices shining through.

As with any cured meat, this duck prosciutto is as versatile as it is delicious, and—if it lasts past the first day—can be stored in the fridge tightly wrapped in plastic for a week or so. My favorite way to enjoy it is with figs and arugula, but any combination of fruit, cheese, bread, and greens is sure to be delectable. It may not have been as easy as sidling up to my local deli counter, but the satisfaction was well worth it. Who knew that with a few raw ingredients, some experimentation, and a little patience, my own charcuterie was within reach? Now if I can just get my hands on that pig’s leg…