There’s no question that duck is one of our favorite proteins to work with, but I will admit that we tend to rely on the same preparations for it: the breasts are usually grilled or simply seared in our iron skillet, and the legs and wings (and fat) generally make their way into confit. So when I spotted Mark Bittman’s recipe for a Vietnamese-style duck with green beans a little while back, I was intrigued: it had flavors that we love and don’t play with enough at home, and it looked like a good bet for a weeknight dinner, using things we already had on hand.

Mike volunteered to make it for our Wednesday night dinner, and while he would like to make a few tweaks to the recipe, we were both pretty pleased with the result. In particular, the method of putting the duck pieces in a dry pan and letting them cook in their own rendered fat was brilliant – the whole house smelled amazing, and the duck was intensely flavorful. We’re planning a do-over soon.

Thursday night’s duck dinner was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing: some friends started tweeting about burritos in the morning, which led to Mike and I both developing a massive craving for Mexican food, which led me to start desperately thinking of what I could put together with the stuff we had in our fridge and pantry that night. Which takes us to our ever-present tub of duck confit. It really is one of the best “convenience” foods I can think of, but as I said above, we tend to prepare it the same way. And while there’s nothing wrong with a crackly-skinned, seared confit leg, with potatoes fried in the duck fat and a salad with sharp vinaigrette served alongside, I planned to go in a very different direction.

I started by putting together a quick sort of mole sauce: shallots and garlic softened in a bit of duck fat, some toasted spices (whole cumin, coriander and cloves), toasted almonds and pumpkin seeds, reconstituted dried chiles, a couple of chipotles in adobo, and a bit of thawed, reheated roasted tomato sauce and stock (a chicken and duck blend) from the freezer. This all went into a blender, along with a blob of sesame tahini (we were out of the traditional sesame seeds, so I figured, why not), a bit of tomato paste, some sherry vinegar, salt, canela, Mexican oregano, and unsweetened cocoa powder, and I blended it to a creamy puree. I adjusted the salt and acid until it tasted right to me, and added a little of the liquid left over from soaking the chiles to thin it out a bit.

With the mole done, I set my attention to the duck, shredding off the meat from a leg and a couple of wings, cooking it in the little bits of fat that clung to the meat until the edges were a bit crispy. I softened up some tortillas in a little more duck fat, stuffed each of them with a bit of the duck, then put them in a baking dish and spooned some of the mole all around. I added a mixture of grated cheeses (Smith’s cheddar and Divine Providence) to the top, and baked the enchiladas for about 25 minutes in a 375 degree oven.

I made a sort of lime crema by whisking a little fresh lime juice into the last of a container of crème fraiche, which I drizzled over the tops of the finished enchiladas, sprinkling some minced scallion and lime zest on for garnish, and spooned some slow-cooked Rancho Gordo beans onto our plates as well.

The rich, flavorful duck was a wonderful match with the flavors in the mole sauce – we liked these enchiladas so much, in fact, we ate the entire batch. I made enough mole to feed an army, and I plan to portion out the remainder and freeze it, so we’ll definitely be doing this version of enchiladas again.

Mike cooked the pork, searing it twice, a la Mark Bittman, and making a delicious pan sauce with stock and herbs and a butter/flour base. I smashed the potatoes with plenty of butter and cream, and sauteed the green beans (some of many I’ve blanched and frozen before the season ends) in a bit more butter.

Kali approved. As did we.

When I was in my twenties and just beginning to experiment with different cuisines, I cooked enough paella that I received an authentic (and pricey) paella pan as a gift from a beau. I still own that pan, but it has been parked on top of the refrigerator for the entire three years Mike and I have lived in our apartment – which should tell you how many paellas I’ve cooked in that time. It’s a dish that I love, but it fell off my radar until recently, when Mark Bittman’s Minimalist Tomato Paella recipe appeared in the Times. I wasn’t the only one seduced by visions of sweet roasted tomatoes, smoky, earthy seasonings, tender rice and that gorgeous crust – in fact, Luisa’s mouthwatering photos practically haunted me. I needed to make this dish.

Since most of our useable kitchen space is covered with platters and such for our party this weekend I didn’t end up dusting off my old paella pan, but our trusty cast iron skillet worked just fine. I followed Bittman’s recipe, using a mixture of white vermouth (1/2 cup) and water (3 cups) for the liquid component, and sprinkling a bit of fresh thyme over the top instead of chopped parsley (it was too dark out by the time I got home to grab parsley from the garden), and let me tell you, this was phenomenal. The depth of flavor in this dish, the textures of the rice and of the roasted tomatoes just floored me, and the fact that it came together so quickly and easily made it that much better. If you’ve been thinking about making this dish and you haven’t yet, do it.