One Christmas, about 20 years ago, my father proudly announced that we would be having a traditional English Christmas that year, complete with fig pudding and a fattened goose. This would have come as no surprise if it were not for the fact that my father was Russian/Polish and my mother 100% Italian.
So he cooked a Goose – literally. And it was quite good so for many years to come he would, as often as possible, cook a goose, along with a turkey or a prime rib and my mother’s lasagna or ravioli and (what would Christmas be without it) the antipasto.
Again, this could be why I have to go to the gym 3 – 4 times a week now!
So – in honor of my Father’s screwy tradition, I am planning to cook a goose this year. I have no idea where to buy one, how to cook one or even if anyone but me will eat the damn thing, but I think, wherever the old man is, it’ll make him happy to know I gave it a shot. Tradition! I will, however, skip the fig pudding. That crap is nasty!!
Tomorrow I take Mary and Marie and we go to Mazzarro’s, the best Italian deli south of Hoboken.
We still have to have the ANTIPASTO! Geeeeez!