Some traumas are impossible to forget. The case of my late great-aunt’s Christmas goose is one of those such episodes.
Let me explain. Christmas with my feral Irish clan has always been a wild ride. When I was a young boy, and without fail, the McCormick family Christmas included a goose. It was tradition. My grandfather loved to eat them, in large part because he helped raise domestic varieties on his small family farm back in the day.
