A local friend had her husband deliver a beautiful white duck to me. There it sat, its feet tied, resting tamely in the basket of my bicycle in front of our house. „What now?“ I thought to myself.
It was a good thing that I had already arranged for some help in advance. I had asked another local friend from the village to assist me in preparing this feast. However, she made it clear from the start that, in her family, only the men slaughter animals.
OK, who could we call on short notice for this task? Since we share our yard with an elderly man, we asked if he could assist us. Grinning, he retrieved a knife from his house, quickly sharpened it with a stone, then, with a skillful move, placed the duck between his feet, grabbed it by the wings, and began cutting.
My children watched closely what was happening. Once the feet stopped moving, we placed the lifeless body in a hot water bath before bringing it into the house. There, the delicate task began—plucking the feathers and cleaning out the innards.
How grateful I was for the experienced hands of my friend, so it didn’t take too long until the raw duck was in the pan.
Next came the typical meat filling that is only found here in the south of Azerbaijan: Lavengi, a walnut and onion mixture that is first ground in a meat grinder and then mixed and seasoned.
We stuffed the duck with it and cooked the remaining mixture alongside the meat as a sauce. Soon a delicious smell of meat filled the house. With it we served local rice called plov as a traditional side dish.
One thing was a must: we also brought a full plate to our private butcher. He was amazed that we had prepared one of his favorite dishes that morning. A few days later, when he returned home from the bazaar, he surprised our children with nuts, fruit, and chocolate. A perfect example of life here—a constant give and take.