Via the Laudator:
Robert Southey (1774-1843), To a Goose:
If thou didst feed on western plains of yore;
Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet
Over some Cambrian mountain’s plashy moor;
Or find in farmer’s yard a safe retreat
From gipsy thieves, and foxes sly and fleet;
If thy grey quills, by lawyer guided, trace
Deeds big with ruin to some wretched race,
Or love-sick poet’s sonnet, sad and sweet,
Wailing the rigour of his lady fair;
Or if, the drudge of housemaid’s daily toil,
Cobwebs and dust thy pinions white besoil,
Departed Goose! I neither know nor care.
But this I know, that we pronounced thee fine,
Season’d with sage and onions, and port wine.
Ah this reminds me of geese I have known… under my carving knife… greasy…
My favorite way of preparing goose is with sauerkraut. Yum.
I almost… almost… look forward to winter after this.
I wonder what this winter will bring.
Or near future winters.
Will we have the chance, or necessity, to make a Christmas goose? With pickle cabbage?
Old world food.