The assignment calls for a painting of a roasted duck dinner... so begins the task all painters struggle with; obtaining reference material. I guess there's nothing to do but get to work.
A couple of the ducks I shot in Northern California snuck home in my luggage... they'll do. They were soaked in a salt-brine for 24 hours, then placed uncovered on a wire rack in the refrigerator for 24 more; this lets the skins dry out some so they'll get crispy when they're roasted. The painting in the background, "Chiaroscuro", was just purchased by the fellow who I shot the ducks with. It was varnished earlier in the day and is almost dry.
Before and after... ready for the smoker. I like to smoke our ducks with apple wood, the trimming come from our little orchard (four trees) and we hoard them for the year's smoking. Mean while, back in the kitchen... Lisa is cleaning and preparing a bunch of root vegetables for roasting in the oven. Back by the studio... the Big Chief is rolling Carrots, parsnip, beets, turnips, rutabaga, mushrooms and celeriac (celery root) all get rubbed in olive oil, salt and pepper before they go in the oven at 450 degrees. While the veggies roast, Lisa makes crustinis... To go with a garlic/Kalamata olive tapinade. A nice bottle of Pinot is shared by the chefs until the veggies come out. The oven gets cranked to 550 degrees, and the smoked ducks go in... We like our duck rare; eighteen minutes for two mallard is good for me... Lisa like 'em at twenty. We split the difference. The table is set, candles lit, a bottle of malbec poured, and dinner is served. It's time to eat... But not before the shots are taken that I'll need to paint from... this is work, after all.
Too bad Tommy was over at a friend's house for the night... she missed all the fun!
Tomorrow the painting (real work) begins...
"Make it matter, fuckos." jhnnythndr
" Herre jävlar vilka fiskar!!" P-A
"I'm no saint though, nor a judge. Rock that shit good and hard, and on your way out, wipe your dick on the curtains." - Kyner