Sure, down covered work boots are not what first comes to mind when one thinks of Christmas Goose. No, I instantly think of a fragrant pine wreath on the door, a glass of spicey wine in the hand and a well set table in the middle of which rests a well cooked crispy skinned goose. However, even the most gorgeous goose dinners start with the ritual of sacrifice. According to Nectar and Ambrosia: An Encyclopedia of Food in World Mythology,
“Feasting on geese has long been a tradition in the Old World, as is clear from ancient mythology. The prevalence of goose gods in numerous cultures attests to the ritual importance of geese and to the fact that these rituals date back to antiquity…The goose feast that came to characterize holiday celebrations in later times arise as a modern-day derivative of these ancient rites and sacrifices. People in Europe, Central Asia, North America, and North Africa customarily sacrified geese, particularly at the turn of the seasons. Like other migratory fowl, geese appeared and disappeared at crucial times in the yearly cycle, so eating them customarily accompanied ceremonial events in the solar and agricultural year…After the goose was ceremonially killed, participants in the sacrifice feasted on its flesh in a ritual that they believed would ensure the regeneration of the Earth…Goose was served at the Celtic Samhain, or Halloween; the Germanic Yule, originally the first day of the new year; and Michaelmas, the ritual feast of the winter solstice.”
To this end, I recently joined a Petaluma farmer in preparing winter geese. The day started early in sharp 40° weather (go ahead laugh you Midwesterners). I met the knowledgeable crew while they were setting up a mobile station consisting of a gas fueled scalder, an automated plucker, hangers for plucking and killing cones mounted on the outside.
The most experienced, Lupe, began dispatching birds as the scalder heated.
Then the birds would go into a scalder with water heated to 150°. The goose would be rotated on a perforated platform for nearly a minute. This is much longer than the brief swish of a chicken in hot water. Apparently, the hot water needs time to penetrate the deep layers of goose down (about 1.5 inch thick).
We initially tried placing the soaked bird into an automatic plucker but the feathers were too slick with water repelling oils for the machine to grip them. So instead we hung the goose. Three people plucked it in only a few minutes. This is a startling contrast to the 15-20 minutes it takes me to pluck one duck.
Once only stubborn bits of downy feathers remained, we’d placed the goose in the plucker to finish. I helped with plucking as I appreciated the lesson I received to improve my method. I also enjoyed burying my freezing hands in the gush of hot water that would come from the feathers after scalding.
After plucking, the goose would go to the cleaning table where others would remove, clean, and separate the fat and offal for culinary use.
In the end, thirty-five geese had been prepared for the many upcoming winter feasts of the holiday season.
The farmer who was so gracious as to let me participate in this annual ritual of theirs told me it is important that the recipients of the geese see the head and feet intact. He feels it is important that the goose been seen as, not just a seasonal poultry dish, but a whole animal. One that was once alive and one they are now left to honor in its preparation.
Dear Edible East Bay:
I am writing in response to your recent article on freeganis, “The Diver’s Diet” by Matthew Green.
Thank you for providing a perspective on a lesser known reuse culture. I appreciate the attempt of individuals in our community to make better use of a deeply flawed food system. While an opposing perspective was included from business owners, I would like to include in the dialogue a perspective from those of us that have lived, or are living, in poverty.
The practice of freeganism brings attention to the appalling waste intrinsic to our current food system. While Green touches upon the fact that it is not the amount but the distribution of the food that leads to hunger, his article goes no deeper in helping the reader understand the larger system of poverty that leads to hunger for those that don’t have. Green’s article also does not acknowledge that by bringing attention to the accessibility of “free food,” freegans are increasing the inaccessibility of even discarded food for the hungry and homeless. This is clearly an unintended consequence, yet when people of a privileged class start commodifying a resource that had previously been left to the poor, it leads to gentrification of poverty.
Rummaging through the garbage for food and other resources is a stigmatized behavior associated with only the most deeply impoverished. Creating a subculture where a previously taboo behavior is “cool” is a form of tourism in the realm of poverty. Sociologist George Ritzer calls this McTourism. The individuals that are going on this vacation are not poor, they do not truly want to be poor or even perceived as poor. There is a significant difference between a middle-class urban hipster dressing and acting poor and the realities of living within a stigmatized community. In fact, there appears to be a correlation between freeganism and the use of other cultural symbols associated with lower classes (i.e. poverty props) to appear more urban, street smart, and politically savvy.
While I can appreciate the act of freegansim as a criticism of the waste our food system produces, it bears noting that it also obscures real poverty and loses focus on the crucial change needed. If we are seeking to create alternative urban systems to improve our cities and strengthen our communities and our environment, we need to look to the system of poverty. Rather than gentrifying poverty, lets eliminate the abysmal inequalities that lead to it.
Sincerely,
Esperanza Pallana
Oakland resident and urban farmer