Of geese, gander and ducks

A while back I went to visit my parents in the countryside, and as it is the custom there, I was fed well. I was fed a duck and I think it was the first time I had one (apart of course from the roughly 800 times I had fried duck from a take-away, which naturally doesn’t count, because it’s, well, just fried duck from a take-away).

Now, I myself have never made poultry larger than a large chicken, so I’m always impressed when people are fearless enough to have a go at it. And by “people” I mean my father and my sister. And by “fearless” I mean putting up with me taking pictures of them cutting up a dead bird while helping fuck all in the preparation of said bird.


Anyway, that dead bird was absolutely delicious. The meat tender and juicy, the skin cross and succulent. What else do you need?

Well, you wouldn’t necessarily need anything else, but we had dumplings, red cabbage and some other stuff which I can’t remember, because 1) I’m not a fucking android and 2) I think there wasn’t anything else.