Juicy Goosey

Bah. Humbug.

Christmas traditions.

Every year I like to reacquaint myself with Dickens' A Christmas Carol. From Alastair Sim to Michael Caine, the tale of the redemption of the bitter miser, Scrooge still endures.

It's a great story, that's why & so well told.

Food plays a part, too.

'There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness were the themes of universal admiration. Edged out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish) they hadn’t ate it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows.'

I hadn't had goose for years until this week whilst out for a festive meal with a great friend. Here's what was on the plate at my favourite French restaurant which is right next to Green Park in London.

Suprême d’oie accompagné de chou rouge, marrons aux lardons et sauce aux airelle

Goose breast with red cabbage, chestnuts, bacon and cramberry jus

There were goose fat-roasted potatoes there as well.

A fine bottle of Pinot Noir also graced the table.

I'm still thinking about just how fabulous that goose tasted. Dark, rich, succulent meat with a dense texture. One of those meals you just didn't want to end.

After leaving, it was an age to try to find a cab home. Half an hour later in the freezing night as the fruitless pursuit continued, we ventured back into the restaurant to make more calls out of the cold. Our hôte convivual kindly brought us a couple of warming cognacs. 

On the house. 

Merci beaucoup Monsieur & Joyeux Noel. 

AMM