goose and pig, rich and poor

A $140 frozen goose is for sale in my home town. In fact, I think the shop has three. Also, indiscriminately labeled “pork fat” for $6/lb. In tiny packages.

In West Virginia, my last attempt to buy a goose ended in “well, if you can catch one, sure.” I wasn’t offered to shoot one, and chances were good it’ve been a soup-bird. And a goose will bloody you in hand to hand combat. So. Before that, I bought my geese in Virginia. For a reasonable price. I’d have to ask my wife. It’s been a while now. Too long.

The last time I bought pork in West Virginia, I was given ten or twenty pounds of fat and a head, and a couple bags of bones, for the asking. Nobody else wanted them. They are not specially priced gourmet tit-bits there. This is an amazing, beautiful, sad thing.

I love to eat geese. I love pork fat. I love limitless amounts of stock in four flavors (pig, goat, lamb, beef) simmering on my stove all winter scenting and humidifying my house and filling my chest freezer for free. My sister’s first sentence was “goose a’bit me,” and I have now my own preverbal daughter. I really don’t know what to make of all these facts.

One must be resourceful.


2 Comments on “goose and pig, rich and poor”

  1. Missus says:

    This is a strong weasel. No goose shall defeat her.

  2. Will Huenink says:

    Maybe we can get David to teach her Kung Fu.


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