I roasted a whole duck last week. It was an interesting process - I poached it in tea first and then roasted it. The recipe called for a very high temperature and because there was honey in the tea mix the duck went startlingly black but was very crispy and tasty for the first few mouthfuls...it quickly became somewhat overwelming - under the crisp skin there's a layer of hot liquid fat. The meat however is delicious, dark and gamey, with a slight resistance to the bite yet soft and tender. After we had eaten the bird we made stock from its bones, dark and rich and strange. I'll make a risotto from it I think, with mushrooms and eggplant and parsley and wine.
Also, in a moment of nostagia for my childhood, I poured the liquid fat from the pan into a white cup and kept it. It's in our fridge now, a solid white block on top with a dark jelly underneath. We've used it twice to cook potatoes in - they come out beautifully crisp and flavoursome. As a child I would have had it spread on hot toast, digging the knife in deep to get a good blend of the white fat and the dark rich jelly. This is a treat that no doubt my children will never know, living in a post-cholesterol age. It feels wicked indulging in duck fat, but whatever gets you through these chilly Melbourne winter days.