Mrs. Goose


This is Mrs. Goose enjoying a day-old baguette–lucky lady! When in France, we walk the dog on the nearby canal running parallel to the Marne and feed her our stale bread.

This is how we give back to the animal kingdom after scarfing down foie gras with the same voracity that food is shoved down the gullets of these creatures to create such a delectable spread. The French are a funny breed–well aware of the treatment of geese in foie gras production, but unable to sacrifice the hedonistic pleasure of eating it. For someone who has dabbled in alternative diets (including veganism in my late teens), I include myself in that category (the hedonistic eater, that is).

We dined with a French woman once, in the kitchen of her castle (yes, castle). The fireplace roared beside our table as my husband and I dined on her potatoes (cooked in goose fat–very tasty). I will never forget when, with disgust, she alluded to the atrocities of the foie gras industry. It’s why, she told us, she was a vegetarian–as, without pause, she scooped a giant forkful of rabbit pâté into her mouth.

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