Advice for the Single Girl? Duck.

I’ve decided that this is the year I’m going write a book. I mean pitch a book. Well, at least finish a book proposal. My professional obligations have thinned, and this is the right year to do it. As a single girl whose primarily obligation is a low-overhead dog, when will there be a better time to give all I've got to a time-consuming, poorly-compensated activity? It's an act of love! And even if it doesn't work out; the book won't break up with me, and I'll have something to show for it at the end.

Yesterday I went to the Barnes and Noble of Union Square, to do a bit of research and check out their cookbook section. I can now confirm that every cook book that needs to be written has been written, twice. Tomes are in – big, fat, exhaustive books written by very knowledgeable people. If only a home cook could eat the book.

What the majority of home cooks are seeking are good tasty basics. Yes, they’ve been shamed out of can-opener recipes, long gone are the days of putting a can or two of Campbells on top in a casserole dish with a couple of pieces of protein and calling it dinner. Cooks are curious, but their resources are chef-written books that even I find intimidating. I’m looking forward to changing all that.

A big goal of my cookbook is that I want it to be laugh-out-loud. I want someone to pick it up, flip it around, and giggle in their first few minutes of reading. So I nosed about the non-cookbook sections, trying to get a sense of the size, shape, and topics that made a book leap into my hands.

I found myself at the “So You Want To Write A Book” section (and quickly found a "So You Want to Write a Cookbook" book. Can you believe?), and thumbed around a bit. A scruffy young male, resembling a terrier approached me and said, “So you’re a writer?” Uch. There’s something that should never be said in New York, certainly not in the how-to-write section. I choked down all I wanted to say, looked up at his emerging facial hair and said, “Yup.”

“Oh good, then can you recommend a book for me? On how to write”. Zinsser, who I love deeply, was sitting on top. I pointed at it, and suggested the young buck give it a read. He asked if I had read it. “Actually, I listened to it on audio tape when I had a bad commute.” His retort: “So how good of a writer is this guy if you didn’t even want to read his book?” And then he snorted.

I extricated myself and proceeded to the self-help/fitness section. I swear, it’s just between the "how to write" section, and the cookbooks. They’re cruel at Barnes and Noble.

There was a sassy, pink book that called out to me – cute little chick on the cover, perfect size to pick up without a big commitment. Was it a fashion book? No, it was the “Single Girl's Survival Guide: Secrets for Today's Savvy, Sexy, and Independent Woman”. I dropped it like a hot cast iron skillet. I looked around – no one saw. Not like I knew anyone there, but just in case. It would be like getting caught popping a pimple in the high school bathroom.

I walked the perimeter of self-help/fitness, and eyed the book from another angle. Oh yeah, it was by Andrew Lloyd Weber’s daughter. I heard her talk about the book on NPR. I wonder what she looks like. If she’s so happily single, she must be cute. If she’s his daughter, which means she’s rich, she can at least buy cute. I’ll just open the back cover and see what she looks like. Hmm. I wonder why she’s sing…”

“Sooooooo. What are we reading?” He took the book from my hand. “The Single Girl’s Survival Guide? Is it any good?”

I flash deep red. “I wouldn’t know. I was just reading about the author.” Totally caught. But this time it was a different guy, one who resembles Ziggy, from the second season of the Wire.

“Sure you were. Did you get any good tips?” This dolt started smirking and thumbing through the thing. Where are they minting these guys, these dick-y dorks? Dorks aren’t supposed to be dicks. I felt like I walked into a Manhattan episode of Beauty and the Beast, where the Beasts were working on their pick up skills in the goddamn self-help section. Except these guys were intrusive and insulting; the beasts on that show are always so sweet and insightful.

I got myself out of there with a few more sentences, and found cookbook land, where, thank god, there were no aggressive dweebs. Just Sandra Lee, Bobby Flay, Mario, and that hot chick from Top Chef who makes a lot of international food with her fabulous friends. Yet another home cooking tome that won’t help a homemaker in Topeka.

I ducked out of the Barnes and Noble without another interaction. I thought about the simple high-bang-for-the-buck dishes that can be made at home without a fuss.

I continue to be impressed with the number of really good home cooks who have never tried duck. It’s something reserved for restaurants, and really, it couldn’t be simpler. Like any great (and expensive) piece of protein; season it properly, cook it perfectly, and just get out of the way. Here’s how you do it:

Seared Duck Breast
Serves 4

2 (14-ounce) magret duck breasts (D’Artagnan makes good ones)
Salt, to season

1. Preheat oven to 400F. Score breasts on fat side and season both sides with salt. Place breasts, fat side down in a cold skillet. Cook over medium-low heat until fat renders. Continue cooking for 15 to 20 minutes, increasing heat to medium-high for the last five minutes.
2. Discard all but 1 tablespoon duck fat. Turn duck breasts, and place in oven for 7 to 10 minutes, or until still pink in the middle. Let rest, covered with aluminum foil, for 10 minutes. Slice thinly, serve warm.