Dickens sets us up for horrid disappointments
- Scott Daniels: We Ate Well and Cheaply
- December 10, 2022
- 395
“Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce ... At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board … The youngest Cratchits, in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows.”
Was there a better food writer in the 19th century than Charles Dickens? I’ve read “A Christmas Carol” countless times, beginning as a small child when I was given a pop-up book version, which I still have today and bring out every year.
The passages describing the modest feast at the Cratchits’ and the more abundant table at Nephew Fred’s always have me dabbing my chin. Christmas goose! It’s almost magical, having such a mythical and elegant bird serving as the centerpiece of a joyous family celebration. Who wouldn’t want to create that memory for their family?
I’ve tried roasting a goose for Christmas three times, always coming into it with Dickensian fervor. In my imagination our scratch-and-dent-sale white Frigidaire range stood in for a heavy Victorian hearth with a cast iron Dutch oven tucked into the hot coals.
All the eager family would be squeezed tightly around a dark and dinged-up table lit by stubby beeswax candles tipping hot wax over the side of the cheap tin candlesticks. The potatoes are knocking at the lid of the pot, just like in the story, and a plum pudding is ready to be doused with brandy and set ablaze.
It never worked out like that. Dickens sets us up for horrid 21st-century disappointments as we try and recreate the scarf and burlap wrapped Christmas dinners of a hardscrabble London hovel.
Goose, you see, is quite fatty. You have to roast it in such a way that the fat drains from the bird as it cooks, yielding a scrawny, chewy dinner of gamey dark meat. We’re spoiled by the ridiculously plump turkeys available today, something no goose can match. I guess flying south so conspicuously every year is like doing a year of Weight Watchers.
It has been a good 15 Christmases since my last try, and I’m getting the itch to give it another go. I know about brining meats before roasting now, and maybe that would help. Maybe the current oven is better. Maybe geese are chubbier.
If you want to try making a goose for your Christmas dinner, here is a recipe that should be among the best out there. If Gordon Ramsay doesn’t know how to roast a Christmas goose, then Bob’s your uncle.
ROAST GOOSE
1 goose, thawed, weighing about 11 pounds
4 lemons
3 limes
1 teaspoon Chinese five spice powder
2 teaspoons sea salt
Small bunches of fresh parsley, thyme and sage
3 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
Preheat your oven to 475 F.
Remove any giblets from the cavity of the goose and pull out any pads of fat. With a sharp knife, lightly score the skin of the breast in a criss-cross pattern.
Zest the lemons and limes. Mix the citrus zest with the five spice powder, salt and some pepper to taste. Rub this mixture all over the skin of the bird and add any remaining to the cavity. Add the zested lemons and limes to the cavity, along with the bunches of parsley, thyme and sage.
Roast the goose, breast side up, at 475 F for 15 minutes. Reduce the heat to 375 F and continue to cook for a total of 2.5 hours. It is done when juices are a clear yellow or at an all over internal temperature of 165 F. Be careful not to overcook it as it will become dry and chewy. Drizzle with the honey and sprinkle with thyme leaves before serving.