Eater’s Note – this is a continuation of my prior post, Duck Soup, in which I buy a frozen duck, throw out the plastic tube of orange sauce it comes with, and make black bean soup out of the breasts. My thought was to tacolate the thighs and legs – that’s a word, right? – while making duck broth from the rest of the carcass, but I experienced a crisis of faith.
My sincere adoration of Mexican food has led me to make a lot of confusing, overstuffed tacos. I thought this might be a Jewish thing, like the way I just can’t help adding way too much sauerkraut and Russian dressing to a Reuben. Accordingly, I began the task with a sincere invocation to Yahweh, the biblical God of the Jews, asking for guidance.
Yahweh, btw, is not Yahweh’s real name, it’s just a pronounceable rendering of the Hebrew letters YHWH, which is also not Yahweh’s real name. Yahweh’s real name can’t be spoken, except by Yahweh, but he’s been too busy helping me with my tacos to chat with anyone else.
Here is my prayer:
Dear Yahweh,
I have tried so hard to make delicious, culturally appropriate tacos. Why have you forsaken me?
Is it because nothing I do is ever kosher? Is it because I use too many ingredients, thus committing three (Gluttony, Pride, Greed) of the Big Seven Sins, all in one dish? Or are tacos simply outside the realm of Jewish competence, like deep sea fishing, chain saw sculpture and astrology?
Oh Yahweh, mysteriously unpronounceable yet capitalized word for the source of all that exists, you have helped Pati Jinich in her hour of need, with new episodes airing weekly on local PBS stations and Amazon. What about me?
Larry R.
The thing is, Yahweh came through. He and Rick Bayless helped me see the error of my ways – a total lack of self-restraint – and taught me that the taco, like the fingers of a hand, needs but five elements to form a fistful of flavor:
The taco itself. Something smooth and creamy. Something substantial. Something wet and spicy. Something crunchy. That’s five right there, so it’s OK to stop, except that G-d also loves a squirt of crema, little cubes of avocado or mango, floppy pink circles of pickled red onion and a few drops of something really hot and vinegary. But leave those on the table, let someone else screw up their own taco.
It’s not terribly Mexican, this taco, as neither is the amazing Rick Bayless. But is it a valid celebration of the native concept, or a cultural appropriation? I submit this to you and your own Supreme Being, Dear Eater; soy sauce, mayonnaise a l’orange, and all. My most honest prayer is that nothing comes between you and your appetite, or me and mine.
Recipe: Tamarind Duck Tacos with Orange Smoked Paprika Mayonnaise
Bring crisp, glazed duck to your taco world.
-Full Post-
Husk and rinse the tomatillos and chop coarsely. Drop the garlic clove into an empty, running food processor bowl until buzzed against the sides. Add the tomatillos, onions, jalapenos, cilantro and salt, and pulse to a ground-up consistency. In a medium bowl, roughly mash half the diced avocado with a fork, add the rest of the salsa, stir up well and set aside. Reserve the rest of the avocado cubes for garnish.
Grate the orange rind and add to the mayonnaise with the smoked paprika. Set aside.
In a small bowl, combine the soy sauce, water, mirin, sugar, and tamarind paste. Microwave for about a minute, then stir up until the paste and sugar are dissolved. Finely strain into a spouted cup, including the pureed tamarind on the outside of the strainer. Stir up and reserve.
Heat the oil or fat and fry the shredded duck over medium high heat for a few minutes, scraping up any browned bits to keep them from clinging to the pan. Add about half the tamarind sauce, lower heat to medium and continue cooking until the duck is well glazed. Add more sauce as needed to keep moist, but try to reserve a bit for the tacos. Keep warm over low heat.
To make the tacos, heat them for 10 or 20 seconds each side, two at a time, over a lightly oiled, medium hot griddle or comal. Plate each one with about two teaspoons of the mayonnaise, a portion of duck, a drizzle of leftover tamarind sauce, about a tablespoon of tomatillo sauce and a few pea shoots and avocado cubes. Serve with the remaining salsa, plus extra sour cream, hot sauce and a few lime wedges on the side.
This excellent taco makes me wish there were more duck in this world. And don't knock the mayonnaise, it just works, particularly if it's homemade. If you're not convinced, substitute about a third of it with sour cream. Or if you want to channel Julia Child, make true mayonnaise a l'orange, and use the copious leftovers on asparagus.
I like to drain the liquid from the salsa as it accumulates. If you stir it back in, it just gets more and more watery.
Pea shoots are much preferred here - they last a good week in the fridge without browning or going limp, and they're a good size to bite into. Mung bean sprouts get ugly quick, if they're not already there when you buy them. Putting alfalfa on a taco is like topping it with fuzz.
Tamarind, tamarind, tamarind. The pulp is sold in blocks, is a bit fibrous (it needs straining), lasts forever in the fridge and has the best and freshest flavor. Tamarind paste is a convenience you can buy or make yourself out of pulp, and is usually pretty good. Tamarind concentrate looks like shoe polish, and you're on your own. Some clever folk mash prunes with lime juice to make something like tamarind paste. Pretty ingenious, but again, you're on your own.
Ingredients
Directions
Husk and rinse the tomatillos and chop coarsely. Drop the garlic clove into an empty, running food processor bowl until buzzed against the sides. Add the tomatillos, onions, jalapenos, cilantro and salt, and pulse to a ground-up consistency. In a medium bowl, roughly mash half the diced avocado with a fork, add the rest of the salsa, stir up well and set aside. Reserve the rest of the avocado cubes for garnish.
Grate the orange rind and add to the mayonnaise with the smoked paprika. Set aside.
In a small bowl, combine the soy sauce, water, mirin, sugar, and tamarind paste. Microwave for about a minute, then stir up until the paste and sugar are dissolved. Finely strain into a spouted cup, including the pureed tamarind on the outside of the strainer. Stir up and reserve.
Heat the oil or fat and fry the shredded duck over medium high heat for a few minutes, scraping up any browned bits to keep them from clinging to the pan. Add about half the tamarind sauce, lower heat to medium and continue cooking until the duck is well glazed. Add more sauce as needed to keep moist, but try to reserve a bit for the tacos. Keep warm over low heat.
To make the tacos, heat them for 10 or 20 seconds each side, two at a time, over a lightly oiled, medium hot griddle or comal. Plate each one with about two teaspoons of the mayonnaise, a portion of duck, a drizzle of leftover tamarind sauce, about a tablespoon of tomatillo sauce and a few pea shoots and avocado cubes. Serve with the remaining salsa, plus extra sour cream, hot sauce and a few lime wedges on the side.
This excellent taco makes me wish there were more duck in this world. And don't knock the mayonnaise, it just works, particularly if it's homemade. If you're not convinced, substitute about a third of it with sour cream. Or if you want to channel Julia Child, make true mayonnaise a l'orange, and use the copious leftovers on asparagus.
I like to drain the liquid from the salsa as it accumulates. If you stir it back in, it just gets more and more watery.
Pea shoots are much preferred here - they last a good week in the fridge without browning or going limp, and they're a good size to bite into. Mung bean sprouts get ugly quick, if they're not already there when you buy them. Putting alfalfa on a taco is like topping it with fuzz.
Tamarind, tamarind, tamarind. The pulp is sold in blocks, is a bit fibrous (it needs straining), lasts forever in the fridge and has the best and freshest flavor. Tamarind paste is a convenience you can buy or make yourself out of pulp, and is usually pretty good. Tamarind concentrate looks like shoe polish, and you're on your own. Some clever folk mash prunes with lime juice to make something like tamarind paste. Pretty ingenious, but again, you're on your own.