The blood in question belonged to a duck, seared and flambeed until its skin reached a rich golden brown, but rarer than rare within. Relieved of its breasts and legs, the bird was now being crushed inside several pounds of Christofle silver in a contraption that would be decried medieval if it weren't so elegant.
And so, after a few strained revolutions, a swift flow of claret.
Confronted with this atavistic sight, customers become unpredictable says Otto Tepasse, the London restauranteur and maitre d' responsible for this meal of canard a la presse.
