The Goose WAS Getting Fat. . .

Yesterday, we had our second Christmas dinner. Since we were in London for Christmas Day itself, we waited until Epiphany to celebrate a Christmas dinner with our son, his wife, and my father and stepmother. It was a wonderful occasion, and our meal was delicious. We had roast chicken, which was once considered a Sunday special dinner, along with the usual trimmings--mashed potatoes, broccoli, corn, crescent rolls and cranberry sauce.

Ah--the goose, you are wondering. What goose was getting fat? Well, that would be the goose we had for our first Christmas dinner. Before we traveled to London, our daughter asked if we would like goose for Christmas. Hmmmm--I could not recall ever having had goose, for Christmas or otherwise, so--sure, why not? After all, the song says "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. . ."

Getting the provisions for Christmas dinner is why we went to Borough Market (see previous post). In addition to the goose, which came from The Ginger Pig, the other foods included: brussel sprouts still on the stalk, and fresh carrots and parsnips looking as though they were just harvested.

My daughter and her fiance had done all the reading on preparing a goose. So, while one set about rendering the goose fat, the other salted and peppered the goose. Oh, and then filled the goose with mashed potatoes made with goose fat. All ready to pop in the oven.

It seems that there is practically a cult of goose fat in the UK. Read all about the benefits here. We didn't go to quite the lengths extolled on the Internet. No potatoes roasted in goose fat. But I was amazed at the lack of any odor from the goose fat.

With the Christmas dinner all prepared, and set out on the table, all that remained was for us to enjoy.

And we did!