Goose Egged

I'm pretty taken with the eggs over here.  I will pop a fried or poached egg on pasta or salad and call it dinner many nights.  Or if I'm feeling fancy on a workday morning, I'll fry up an egg for breakfast instead of having granola.  So when I saw a giant basket of "Oeufs des oies" at my favorite fromagerie, I was game.

I knew I did the right thing when she put it an adorable bag.  But bag or not, I was pretty stoked (bringing it back, thanks) to cook my goose egg for a big weekend breakfast.  For one.  But whatever.

Until I palmed it, that is.  Holy crap, is that a big egg!  

Check it compared to a lowly chicken egg.  I pretty much gulped and wondered if I could make it through this experience (similar to when I was trying to cut a bone-in rabbit loin [which was approximately proportionate to that of my cat, who was sitting nearby] and suddenly dropped the knife and begged B to take over).

But then I decided that living single (er, with a boyfriend in Sweden) means cracking your own eggs.  (That sounds like a terrible euphemism.)  And eating the eggs you buy.  So I slammed the shell with the force to break 10 chicken eggs and got on with it.

The yolk just about fills the bottom of a pyrex measuring bowl.

The yolk is so clear it's almost iridescent blue.  One goose egg fills the whole 12" skillet, yo.

Apres flip.  I think I cooked it for 8-10 minutes or so.

And then the payoff.  A goose egg sandwich with some soft sheep's milk cheese and a piece of traditional bread.  I ended up ditching the bread so as to be able to eat all of the egg.  One goose egg is about the equivalent of 4 chicken eggs.  (Me = pig.)

So how did it taste?  Well, geese are herbivores (whereas chickens eat meat), so it was milder in a sense. But it also tasted fresher and, well, greener.  It was also much fluffier.  Basically, it was the best chicken egg I have ever eaten.

And I got another one for B and I to eat this weekend!  The experiment begins again...