There is a new trend sweeping the catering nation and I am all for it.  We’ve all been there; you’re at a wedding juggling a glass of wine, your overly-crammed purse (you brought the cute little one that matches your shoes, but it can’t possibly hold even half your necessary arsenal- that’s what your husband’s pockets are for!), and the ornate wedding program you’re trying desperately to hang on to though know in your heart of hearts it won’t make it past the champagne toast before it’s carelessly tossed on the buffet table so you can get out on the dance floor and bring “Sexy Back.”  Just as you’re wishing you had a third hand, a waiter comes by with a tray of salmon caviar toasts.  They look innocent enough so you somehow find a way to shift your possessions to make room for the little delicacy.  Once you’ve got it in your hand (of course you forgot to grab a napkin) what looked like one bite on the tray suddenly seems like stuffing Mount Everest inside Moby Dick.  There is no way to eat this daintily because if you bite it in half you’ll get crumbs everywhere, but if you try to shove in the whole thing you’ll be out of commission chewing down your blowfish cheeks for five minutes.  Frustrated, you pass it off to your husband and decide to seek out another drink; if you can’t eat you might as well screw up enough liquid courage to not care what you look like doing the Running Man to YMCA later, right?

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My first homemade charcuterie project was a resounding success; thanks, Michael Ruhlman, for your super informative book.  Recently I’ve become pretty intrigued with at-home charcuterie; it all started with the extra refrigerator Jonas brought home a few months ago from the office that sat languishing on our deck.  I hate useless appliances, and I really try to keep my kitchen fairly gadget-free (though I confess to being lured in by promised convenience more than I probably should).  That’s why this refrigerator was bothering me so much just sitting there mocking me from our unused upper deck without so much as a nearby electrical outlet so we could plug it in. 

I finally requested that Jonas make a morning project of rearranging our master bathroom closet to accommodate the refrigerator- how many mismatched Missoni bath towels and pilfered Mondrian soaps does a girl really need?  I’ve had it up and running for a month now- it’s great.  I bring Bentley’s bottle of milk upstairs at night, use the second fridge to house said milk, and take it out for the baby in the morning so I don’t have to make the arduous journey downstairs.  That’s it.  There is not another damn thing that has seen the inside of the spare refrigerator to this day, mainly because I can’t regulate the temperature enough inside it to ensure even curing.  What does this have to do with my luscious duck boobies? Not a thing, since it was my laborious mistake in the first place, but I promise you, you will see home-cured pork belly cum bacon coming out of that refrigerator before the year’s end even if I have to get a refrigeration and humidity degree just to figure out how to regulate the chilly sucker! 

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Yes, funny you should ask.  I’m curing those lovely duck breasts this week so that next week they’ll become duck breast prosciutto.  I will report back once they are 70% of their original body weight and ripe for the slicing.