In defence of duck à l’orange

Duck à l’orange is so deliciously retro, it’s almost a cliché of kitsch. It seems hard to believe that there was a time when it was genuinely regarded as elegant, or subtle-flavoured, let alone exciting; that it wasn’t always a byword for naff.

But as its name suggests, duck à l’orange had chic origins. And perhaps (contrary to its name) Italian ones. The French may have made it one of their defining dishes, but it’s often suggested that it may have Italian roots: brought to the French court by Catherine de Medici when she married the Duke of Orléans, the son of the King of France, in 1533. Catherine brought a brigade of Florentine cooks with her to the French court, and they introduced a host of Italian dishes that became French classics: salsa colla turned into béchamel sauce, carabaccia soup was renamed French onion soup, crespelle were rebranded as crèpes – and papero all’arancia became better known to us as duck à l’orange.

Having said all this, more likely is that the dish originated in the Middle East, where combining meat and fruit was the norm, before coming to Europe on trade routes.

Its heyday came in the 20th century, of course. Duck à l’orange was an extremely popular choice in the 1960s and 1970s, gracing restaurants and dinner party tables alike. Its popularity may have been its downfall.

I blame Julia Child. In 1961, Child published Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and brought classical French cuisine to the American masses. Now, I am an unabashed Child fan, and her book truly transformed the way the US cooked. But her greatest skill was knowing her audience: she was adamant that her recipes must be achievable for her American readers.

I wonder if this is where it all went wrong. In her otherwise authentic version of the dish, she calls for sweet oranges instead of the traditional Seville oranges, which are very hard to get hold of in the US.