Martini Gans
November 11 is Goose Day. Goose what? Goose Day, you heard it right. There are Labor Day, Independence Day, All Saints Day, and so on—why not Goose Day?
In Austria, at least, when St. Martin is once more the favorite Saint of the day—the day when you get Martini Gans (Martini Goose) for lunch or dinner, served with red cabbage, potato dumplings, and best consumed with the young wine produced the same year. The practice is observed for 40 days. I fondly refer to Saint Martin as the Saint Martin of the goose.
Legend has it that the Holy Martin hid in a goose stall when he was summoned by the church to make him a bishop. He didn’t want the new job, as he was pretty happy and content being a simple servant of the Lord; otherwise, he might no longer be keen on learning new tasks. Oh, I can relate! You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
Eventually, he was found —how? Did the flock give him away? You bet! Of all places, why choose a goose stall to hide? The big birds must have been surprised, got anxious, and made a lot of honkings. No goose and gander were spared that day, not by the soldiers, but by the village people who were loyal to the holy man.
I can imagine the violence and bloodshed that ensued when the poor birds were decapitated and sent straight to the oven. Thinking of the beheadings, I get goosies! Pun intended.
Anyway, he must have done something good as he was later proclaimed a saint, and went down in church history as a saint featured with a goose. Saints must have something to distinguish themselves from the other men and women who are holier than thou. There’s Saint Francis of Assisi and his birds, St. Roq (San Roque) and his dog, Saint Gertrude and her cat, Saint Peter and his rooster, Roger Moore (The Saint) and his gun.
And let’s not forget about goose down, that precious stuff in my winter blanket and pillows. It’s like being wrapped in a warm, cozy hug all night long. This could be why you get Martini Gans only during the cold season —November, when the temperature can drop below freezing. Goose meat is dense in fat, so it’s not exactly a summer dish. But in the winter, when you need that extra insulation, goose fat is your friend. It’s the kind of comfort that makes you forget you’re eating the goose that lays golden eggs.
I was invited to a Martini Gans dinner on November 11—Saint Martin’s Day. Waiting for us was a 5-kg goose—stuffed with apples and red onions —still roasting in the oven. I had with me three bottles of freshly minted white Jungwein (young or new wine) from Burgenland—a province in Austria that is famous for its wines and also for its migratory storks, with nests ensconced on the chimney tops of rustic houses. A wine aficionado advised me to get those. The latest wine launched in autumn goes very well, he said, with the rich flavor of Martini Gans. Thanks and kudos to him for this valuable piece of advice. Our dinner host and the other guests were delighted with the young wine. The aroma reminded me of apples and pears freshly picked from the garden—a perfect match for the crispy goose and the side dish of red cabbage and potato dumplings.
Saint Martin is the patron saint of Burgenland. In mid-autumn, locals and visitors alike celebrate the harvest with a festival that begins with the “baptism” (Weintaufe in German) of the new wine by a Catholic priest—a tradition also practiced in other wine-producing regions of Austria. A culture that goes back to the day when his flock, his herd of geese, I mean, betrayed that holy man called Martin. It is only when the wine has been purified (with glycol? Naughty me remembering Austria’s wine scandal in the early 80s) through some baptism that you are allowed to say Prost when proposing a toast to health. Or to the goose? Hick!