Duck egg quiche excitement

Duck eggs generate a unique excitement among cooks that's just not seen with your run-of-the-mill chook eggs.

"You've got duck eggs?
"Have you got many duck eggs?
"I love duck eggs."

And we love them too.

We also love quiche - we're a quiche-loving-couple.
Here's my mum's onion quiche recipe that I've adapted.


Really Easy Shortcrust Pastry

2 cups of plain flour
1 tspn baking powder
1/2 tspn salt
125g butter OR lard OR bacon/ham fat
1/4 cup water
Squeeze of lemon juice

Mix dry ingredients, rub in butter/lard/cured fat, add water and lemon juice, and knead lightly till it's smooth.
I take the really easy option and put the dry ingredients and fat into a food processor, wizzy it up, then add the water and lemon. This recipe produces enough for two average-size quiches.


Really Yummy Duck Egg and Allium Quiche

2 big onions OR 1 big leek OR 10 little potato onions OR a combination
Two big, fresh, free range, happy-quacky duck eggs (or chooks eggs... I suppose... if you have to)
150ml cream
Double handful of grated chedder
Salt and pepper
1 tspn of mustard (wet or dry)

Cook the chopped up members of the allium family with a good knob of butter in a frypan on low heat. It can take a good 15-20 minutes to get them well-cooked and translucent. Leave to cool.

Roll out the pastry to fit your daggy op-shop quiche dish.

Spread the cooked alliums into the dish, and then pour over the well-mixed egg/cream/cheese mix. Try to spread it evenly, so no one ends up with too much cheese and not enough leek. Disastrous.

At this point, this time, I sprinkled over some cooked bacon pieces. You can add lots of bacon if you'd like - it's best to cook it in the frypan with the alliums.

Put your quiche into a nice hot oven (200 degrees) so the duck eggs puff up. When the top starts turning golden I turn it down to 180. Every oven is different, but my quiches take about 30 minutes to cook.

Eat hot or cold, with salad or without, and give thanks to the ducks.

Duck buddies

This is Roger, Dylan and Quack-Quack.

They live on the fringe of the flock: outcasts. They have baggage.

Every morning you'll find them under the dying blackwood tree talking quietly as they wash and forage. The other ducks chatter in the orchard, assimilated.

I raised Roger and Dylan in the bathroom of my house in town. They swam under the warmth of a desk lamp, and came out to watch the news on the couch.

When they moved outside we would play on the lawn. I'd lay on my tummy and they'd walk along my back and tinker with my earrings and tease my hair.

Their confidence grew. I'd step outside with the washing and they'd sprint to the line. Roger would aim for the skin behind my knees and latch on - so great was his affection.

I contemplated a 'Beware of the Ducks' sign.

Quack-Quack is a dumped duck. She was an only child and her owners thought she'd be better-off eating our grain.

She's of "mixed breed" and appears to cogitate a lot.

The three spend most of their days together, but the boys do need Roger and Dylan Time. They have a special bond, these two.

Roger and Quack-Quack slid under the fence into the shelter belt the other day. Dylan was beside himself, wondering what they were up to.

But when Quack-Quack goes under the conifer to lay her egg, the boys waddle and hide.

And Quack-Quack spends the afternoon by herself.