I instantly shape shifted into Gollum at Pike Place Market the other day. You would have done the same thing too if you had seen it though. My precioussss, my preciouss, precioussss, precioussss. My primal nature kicked in and I furtively, possessively glanced about, assessing the threat from all angles. It’s mine, all mine, mine, mine, I thought in my suddenly Australopithecus brain. Ok, maybe most of you wouldn’t have gone quite so nuts over it, but the ambrosial delights I knew I would find inside that little parcel really had my blood all in a boil. Wondering wtf I’m talking about? Why all the suspense, Linda, you’re bordering on psycho here? Just go seek one out and try it for yourself; then tell me I’m wrong to be so instantly awestruck.
Ok, ok, the object in question is a goose egg. Not the kind you get on your noggin after a particularly inebriated night involving five 30somethings and a tetherball, either. This goose egg called out to me from its cushioned perch at The Creamery in the market, “Linda- bye, bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry.” Why was the goose egg singing that song, you ask? Let’s revisit Homer’s Odyssey for a moment, shall we? You recall the Sirens of Titan luring unsuspecting seamen with their enchanted voices? Well American Pie would be the song they would sing to me. It’s like dangerous nectar to my ears every time I hear it. You could talk me into anything with that song. Anyway, the goose egg beckoned me to her with my inescapable song, and there was nothing I could do but buy her, and her little buddy behind her too.
I spent the rest of my market time slinking around corners acutely alert to every possible threat to my goosey package, but miraculously no one tried to mug me for an egg. Once I got her home I began to debate the merits of alternative cooking styles, and if you’ve been reading this blog at all over the last month, you can probably guess which won in the end. Yes, I opted for sous vide since it produces the most refined texture imaginable in an egg; more like a pudding than an egg white, and more like a custard than a yolk.
Once I broke through the durable shell with my fork, I was immediately struck by the brilliant gold color radiating from the oblong egg. The yolk/albumen (that’s fancy speak for white) ratio is much higher in a goose egg than a chicken, and it is apparent from the first crack of the shell. The color of the yolk is like muted fire, so utterly emanating you can’t look away. I dappled my egg with a few crystals of black Hawaiian salt and tucked in. The yolk was fully cooked but creamy, soft, almost like really thick hollandaise. The white was surprisingly full of flavor, which is rarely the case with a chicken egg. The egg as a whole was much richer and dare I say fatty than its chicken counterpart, which makes sense if you think about it. How much fat will render off a chicken when you roast it? Now compare that to a goose and I guess the answer is obvious. Next time truffle season rolls around I know what type of eggs I’ll be begging off the market vendors, you can bet the farm on that!