Nothing Happened Today

I stole my dinner from the future: a few outer leaves from a head of napa bound for kimchi; a few slices from a raw duck breast meant to become a prosciutto.

This is my confession:

I pre-sliced the raw breast but kept meat together as though to conceal the deed. Then I placed the duck-slice package skin-side down on a skillet over medium heat and sprinkled salt on top. When the fat rendered and the skin crisped, I pulled the meat apart, quickly seared it, then removed it from pan. In the remaining fat, I browned a few slices of garlic. Then I stir-fried the cabbage with some black pepper. It wept and made a sauce from the pan juices. I like to add a touch of cornstarch and water to thicken the liquid. I make no apologies for this. When the sauce was thicker and once again translucent, I added the duck pieces and shook to coat everything.

I did all this and I freely admit it. I apologize only a little bit to my future self.

No, I did not eat dinner from the pan while standing at the stove. I am a thief not a barbarian.