最冷的冬天裏那盤讓人驚豔的油封鴨腿
2026.1.24
我是喜歡吃鴨肉的，一是它的皮，可以又香又脆，二是鴨肉的質地，跟雞肉火雞肉不同， 感覺更修長更滑嫩更有韌勁兒， 想象一下不經常鍛煉的人和經常鍛煉的人的肌肉， 鴨肉的紋理就像是經常鍛煉的人的肌肉，富有彈性和活力， 是又幹又柴的雞肉不能比的。
一說起鴨子，除了北京烤鴨，最有名的是不是就是法式油封鴨了？所以去蒙特利爾魁北克城，去巴黎去歐洲，可以吃到比較正宗的法餐的地方，我總是擋不住點一份油封鴨腿的誘惑，吃了沒有十盤也有七盤八盤了吧， 越吃越不滿意，越吃越失望。油膩膩的鴨腿，配同樣油膩膩的土豆泥，有時候會有一勺酸甜的果醬，蔓越莓或者橘類，果醬的甜味往往大比例地壓過了酸味；鴨肉的肥膩，土豆泥的軟膩，和果醬的甜膩，三膩合一，讓人興趣全無，垂下眼簾不忍再去回味。
沒有想到的是，最讓我驚豔的油封鴨腿，竟然出現在安省西南部小倫敦的這家餐館裏。
小倫敦和英國那個名聞遐邇的大倫敦同名，穿過城市的河流也同樣被命名為泰晤士河，毫無疑問，安省的倫敦鄭重其事地寄托了最早登上美洲大陸的英裔移民的情思，那時的他們應該是夢想著，在年輕的美洲大陸上打造出來一個一模一樣的家鄉。加拿大華人為了區別英國倫敦，把安省的倫敦叫作小倫敦。
一如既往，餐館是Allen找的， 去小倫敦前，我告訴Allen，這次Bill打算請他吃一次真正的高級餐廳，找個好一點的啊，我囑咐Allen，貴一點的。Allen 愛好不多，日常生活節儉，抵製過度消費，唯一算得上奢侈的愛好是在吃食上，注重食材，可以不經常出去吃飯，出去吃的話喜歡精細飲食，所以我們出門，吃什麽飯，Allen長大後都是Allen負責。Allen心思細膩，在他的高品質餐飲和我們的北美胃口以及錢包承受程度之間找到了那個微妙的平衡，安排得恰如其分，讓以挑剔和難伺候出名的Bill大部分時間都無話可說，隻能樂嗬嗬地表示還行還行了。
今天吃什麽？ 我問Allen。逛完商店把買來的東西送回Allen住處，我們出去吃飯。Allen說，主體是西式，但是有創意融合的成分 （fusion style）。 哦，創意融合料理，Allen帶我們吃過幾次，主打一個新奇，出其不意，就像在巴薩羅那吃到的辣根醃新鮮牛肉片， 日式和西式的結合，讓人難以評價，說不上好吃，也說不上不好吃，最大的特點就是跟你吃過的所有東西都不一樣 —- 新奇的體驗，是不是也是一種不可多得的價值？
Allen跟Bill都點了脆皮三文魚的午飯套餐，主菜加甜點，我因為在減重期，不想吃太多，就單點了一個主菜。 這家餐廳跟很多高級餐廳一樣，重質不重量，量一個體現在飯菜的份量，另一個是菜單上菜品的數量，主菜單子短小精悍，不到十個品種，牛扒豬扒三文魚海鮮素食，還有這個油封鴨腿 —- 於是我又一次毫無懸念地掉進了油封鴨腿的坑裏。我安慰自己，減重期，不管怎樣，禽類總是比豬牛類紅肉更合適的。
這盤油封鴨腿的開盤是美好的， 鴨肉柔嫩水滑彈性十足，新鮮的粉紅色，絲絲脫骨，鮮香不膩。我先把焦脆的鴨皮剝下來，搭在一片柔軟的鴨肉上，送到了Allen的盤子裏 （Allen喜歡吃雞皮鴨皮魚皮， 也喜歡吃鴨肉），然後刀叉並用，把鴨肉輕輕地撥開，先空口嚐了嚐鴨肉本身的味道，又沾上旁邊的醬汁，開始小口小口品嚐。切小一點，咀嚼慢一點，一是有利於養生，再有當然是想把鴨肉的鮮美盡可能地擴展到極致，把享受延長一點再延長一點。 我是個吃飯比較快的人，能讓我主動放慢速度，聯想到養生和享受的食物不多。
食材新鮮，火候恰到好處， 這是個好廚師。Allen和Bill的三文魚也可以看出廚師的功力， 外麵焦香酥脆， 一刀下去，淡橙色的魚肉翻出一層層花瓣般的紋理，經常自己在家煎製三文魚的我對這個紋理不陌生， 那是魚肉剛剛成熟的狀態， 鮮嫩多汁。我很少在外麵餐館吃三文魚， 就是因為做三文魚重在火候，餐館裏的三文魚大多煎過了頭，煎過了頭的三文魚魚肉幹硬，味同嚼蠟，那個樣子的一盤菜，除了蛋白質和不飽和脂肪酸，真就沒有什麽別的可吃的了。
雖然盡量放慢速度，鴨腿還是讓我很快吃完了，最後一口的鴨肉沾足了醬汁，餘韻嫋嫋之中，我竟然在暗褐色的醬汁裏品到了一絲甜麵醬的味道。難道這道菜參照北京烤鴨的吃法，在西式醬汁裏摻加了甜麵醬？ 油封鴨腿這盤菜，本來以為鴨肉吃完了，高潮已過，收尾部分就隻剩意興闌珊了，沒想到這卻隻是一個故事的開端 —- 小徑曲折，半遮半掩，引著人探向那幽深之處。
我的好奇心陡起，睜大眼睛，重新審視盤中剩餘的配菜。 一個圓圓的米白色小餅打底，上麵散散地堆上白色半透明的長長的菜絲，點綴兩抹緋色的輕薄菜片， 杏白桃紅，猶如春光乍現。Allen Bill的三文魚配菜裏有兩個酥皮點心一樣的厚三角，我看著好奇， 要了一小角過來嚐嚐， 竟然是千層土豆餅，土豆片輕薄如紙， 層層分明， 酥酥軟軟。再看我自己盤中的小餅，不規則的鋸齒邊緣，黃白的顏色，我想當然地把它看成了西式配菜土豆絲餅 （hash brown)，入口的感覺卻是軟糯的，沒有土豆絲餅的酥脆。 我把白色小餅切割成小小的方塊，把一個正方形翻過來，餅色素白，有細小青翠的蔥花點綴其中，這是改了版的蔥油餅 —- 或者說更像我小時候家裏經常做的 “攤片兒” ， 英文應該叫它 green onion pancake 吧。
白色的菜絲入口清爽利落，柔和的絲絲縷縷的酸， 輕淡的克製隱忍的甜，我可以十分地肯定，這是泡菜白蘿卜。真是讓人驚喜連連，搭以油膩著稱的鴨肉， 還有什麽比泡菜白蘿卜素淡的酸和甜更合適的呢，良配啊。
法式的鴨肉，中式的醬汁和軟蔥餅，韓式泡菜蘿卜絲，多麽意味深長底蘊十足的一盤菜啊 —- 這會是一個什麽樣的大廚呢，西裔還是亞裔？
我對Bill和Allen說，這是我這麽多年來吃到的最滿意的油封鴨腿。我清理掉盤子裏最後一片食物殘渣，心滿意足地放下刀叉，帶著意猶未盡的微笑，抬起臉來。窗外陽光燦爛，天空湛藍，大地美麗而寧靜 —- 據說今天是安省南部五六十年來最寒冷的一天。
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The Most Stunning Confit Duck Legs in the Coldest Winter
January 24, 2026
I love duck meat for two reasons: first, its skin—it can be so fragrant and crispy. Second, the texture of duck meat itself, which differs from chicken or turkey. It feels more slender, tender, and resilient. Imagine the muscles of someone who rarely exercises versus someone who trains regularly—duck meat has that same texture, full of elasticity and vitality. It's something dry, tough chicken just can't match.
When it comes to duck, aside from Peking duck, isn't French Duck Confit (Confit de Canard) the most famous? So whenever I visit Montreal, Quebec City, Paris, or other European spots known for authentic French cuisine, I can never resist ordering a confit duck leg. I've probably eaten seven or eight plates of it, yet each time leaves me more dissatisfied and disappointed. The greasy duck leg paired with equally greasy mashed potatoes, sometimes accompanied by a spoonful of sweet-and-sour jam—cranberry or citrus—where the sweetness overwhelmingly drowns out the tartness. The fatty richness of the duck, the cloying softness of the mashed potatoes, and the cloying sweetness of the jam combine into a triple greasiness that kills any appetite, making one lower their eyes in reluctance to savor it further.
Unexpectedly, the most stunning confit duck leg I've ever tasted appeared at this restaurant in London, Ontario.
London, Ontario shares its name with the famed London in England, and the river flowing through the city is similarly named the Thames. Undoubtedly, Ontario's London solemnly embodies the nostalgia of the earliest British settlers to arrive on the American continent. Back then, they must have dreamed of recreating an exact replica of their homeland on the young American continent. To distinguish it from London, England, Chinese Canadians refer to Ontario's London as Little London.
As always, Allen picked the restaurant. Before heading to Little London, I told Allen that Bill planned to treat him to a truly high-end restaurant this time—something nicer, I instructed him, something pricier. Allen had few hobbies and lived frugally, resisting excessive spending. His only indulgence was food—he valued ingredients, rarely dined out, and when he did, he preferred refined cuisine. So whenever we went out to eat, Allen took charge of the meal choices after he grew up. Allen is meticulous, striking that delicate balance between his high-quality dining standards and our North American appetites and budget. His arrangements are spot-on, leaving Bill—renowned for being picky and hard to please—mostly speechless, just grinning and saying, “It's fine, it's fine.”
“What are we having today?” I asked Allen. After shopping and dropping off our purchases at Allen's place, we headed out to eat. Allen said the main style would be Western, but with creative fusion elements. Oh, fusion cuisine. Allen had taken us a few times before. It's all about novelty and surprise, like that horseradish-marinated fresh beef slices we had in Barcelona—a blend of Japanese and Western flavors that's hard to pin down. You can't quite say it's good, nor can you say it's bad. Its biggest feature is that it's unlike anything you've ever tasted before—a novel experience. Isn't that, in itself, a rare kind of value?
Allen and Bill both ordered the lunch set with crispy-skinned salmon, featuring a main course and dessert. Since I'm in a weight-loss phase and didn't want to overeat, I just ordered the main course. Like many high-end restaurants, this place prioritizes quality over quantity. This is evident both in portion sizes and the limited menu selection. The main menu is concise and refined, offering fewer than ten options: beef, pork, salmon, seafood, vegetarian dishes, and this confit duck leg. So, predictably, I fell right back into the confit duck leg trap. I reassured myself: during weight loss, poultry is always a better choice than red meats like pork or beef.
The confit duck leg arrived beautifully presented. The meat was tender, succulent, and springy, a fresh pink hue that fell effortlessly from the bone—flavorful yet not greasy. First, I peeled off the crispy duck skin, placed it atop a tender slice of meat, and sent it over to Allen's plate (he loves chicken skin, duck skin, fish skin, and duck meat). Then, using both knife and fork, I gently separated the duck meat. I tasted it plain first, savoring its pure flavor, then dipped it into the accompanying sauce and began savoring it in small bites. Cutting smaller pieces and chewing slowly serves two purposes: it's beneficial for health, and of course, it allows me to stretch the duck's deliciousness to its absolute limit, prolonging the enjoyment bit by bit. I'm usually a fast eater, so few foods make me consciously slow down, associating it with both wellness and pure enjoyment.
The ingredients are fresh, and the cooking is perfectly timed—this is a skilled chef. The salmon prepared by Allen and Bill also showcases the chef's expertise: crispy and fragrant on the outside, and when sliced, the pale orange flesh reveals layer upon layer of petal-like texture. As someone who often pan-sears salmon at home, I recognize this texture—it signifies the fish is cooked to perfection, tender and juicy. I rarely order salmon at restaurants precisely because its success hinges on precise cooking. Most restaurant salmon is overcooked, resulting in dry, tough flesh that tastes like chewing wax. At that point, beyond the protein and omega-3s, there’s really nothing left to enjoy.
Though I tried to savor it slowly, I finished the duck leg quickly. The last bite was drenched in sauce, and amidst the lingering flavors, I detected a hint of “tian mian jiang”, sweet bean sauce, in the dark brown gravy. Could this dish have been inspired by Peking duck, blending sweet bean sauce into the Western-style glaze? I’d assumed the duck leg confit had reached its climax once the meat was gone, leaving only a lackluster finale. Little did I know this was merely the beginning of the story—a winding path, half-hidden, beckoning me deeper into its mysterious depths.
My curiosity surged. Eyes wide, I reexamined the remaining accompaniments on the plate. A round, creamy-white pancake served as the base, topped loosely with long, translucent white vegetable shreds. Two delicate, crimson-hued vegetable slices dotted the arrangement—apricot white and peach pink, like the first glimpse of spring. Among Allen Bill's salmon accompaniments were two thick, pastry-like triangles. Intrigued, I asked for a small corner to taste. To my surprise, it was a mille-feuille potato cake—slices paper-thin, layered distinctively, crispy yet tender. Returning to my own plate, I examined the irregularly serrated edges of the golden-white pancake. Assuming it was a Western-style hash brown, I expected crispiness. Instead, it yielded to my bite with a soft, sticky texture. I cut the white pancake into small squares. Flipping one over revealed its pure white color, dotted with tiny, vibrant green scallion bits. This was a modified version of a scallion pancake—or more like the “tān piàn” my family often made when I was little. In English, it should be called a green onion pancake.
The white shredded vegetables offered a crisp, clean bite—a gentle, threadlike tang and a subtle, restrained sweetness. I could tell immediately: this was pickled white radish. What a delightful surprise! Paired with duck meat, notorious for its richness, what could be more fitting than the mild, sour-sweet notes of pickled radish? A perfect match.
French duck, Chinese sauce and soft scallion pancakes, Korean pickled radish shreds—what a profoundly layered dish this is. What kind of chef could create this? Western or Asian?
I told Bill and Allen this was the most satisfying confit duck leg I'd had in years. Scraping the last crumb from my plate, I set down my knife and fork with satisfaction, lifting my face with a lingering smile. Outside, the sun shone brightly, the sky was azure, and the earth lay beautiful and serene—supposedly the coldest day in southern Ontario in fifty or sixty years.
(Translated by DeepL and modified by cxyz)
