Every year when I bring up the subject of cooking a goose for Christmas dinner, I get the same reaction from my Family. Mother says “Oh, it’s too fatty and there’s no meat on it, we’ll just have our usual turkey.” My sister’s family would never, ever, consider eating goose. Her tastes are far from adventurous, poultry means chicken and the occasional Cornish game hen. She tells me that this Christmas, which will be spent at her home; she will present us with a Prime Rib.

My brother-in-law believes the only way to lower one’s cholesterol is through a strict vegetarian diet. My niece and nephew are not quite following in their father’s vegetarian ways. They have decided that the only way to eat their vegetables is raw; broccoli and carrot sticks mainly, with ranch dressing.

The choicest response to the goose question comes from my father. When asked if he would “like a Christmas goose,” he responds by remarking “I’ll give you a goose!”

So this year I decided to ignore their silly comments and create a menu whose foundation would be a glorious roast goose with crackling golden skin and succulent meat.

Oh, the anticipation of Christmas dinner -- the scent of the roasting bird permeating the entire house, mingling with the aromas of fresh-cut Christmas tree, the punch bowl brimming with simmering, cardamom-spiked mulled wine. It would be a sumptuous meal befitting the holidays.

I envisioned the sort of Christmas dinner that might have been presented in the dining hall of a stately European manor in the late 19th Century -- servants decked out in black tie and tails, their white-gloved hands holding sparkling silver trays laden with roasted geese garnished with fresh holly, kumquats and roasted chestnuts.

One most often associates Christmas goose with the Victorians. However, goose on the Christmas table was savored not only by the English, but all the countries of continental Europe during the 19th century. In fact, if you peruse European Christmas menus of the late 19th century, not only will you find roast goose but extensive offerings of other types of game meats including swan, peacock, wood pigeon, wild boar, red stag and bear.

It was not uncommon back then to partake of a Christmas dinner that included a minimum of 6 courses and growing to an incredible 18 courses. Or More. This is a sample English menu from 1890. Certainly it must have been enough food to feed an entire village at the Lord’s castle.

Sweetbreads Pate
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Raw Oysters
Fried Smelts with Sauce Tartare
Codfish au gratin
Soles a la creme
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Bouillon
Game Soup
Carrot Soup
Turtle Soup
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Pigeon Pie
Partridge with Celery Sauce
Meadowlarks and Potato
Curried Rabbit
Quail with Truffles
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Roast Turkey with Cranberry Sauce
Roast Goose
Truffled Pigs Feet
Roast Hare
Pork Cutlets with Stuffed Tomatoes
Boiled Tongue
Roast Haunch of Venison
Saddle of Lamb
Ribs of Beef
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Potatoes a la Maitre d' Hotel
Peas
Rice Croquettes
Watercress Salad
Parisian Salad
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Roman Punch
Crackers and Cheese
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Fancy Cakes
Nesselrode Pudding
Plum Pudding
Quince Tart
Apple Tart
Orange Jelly
Lemon Cream
Mince Pies
Fruits
Pear Water Ice
Stuffed Dates
Bon Bons
Nuts

Of course, it should be remembered that diners did not sample everything on the menu. The polite thing was to help yourself to those dishes nearest you, in which case the amounts consumed begin to enter the realms of possibility.

I decided to create a menu that would be a reflection of the types of dishes that would have been served at such a feast -- with a few of my own modern tastes slipped in for good measure. A menu with a turn-of-the-century, European flair.

To start, we would sip flutes of fine vintage rosé champagne while noshing on Chicken Liver Mousse with Peppered Consommé Jelly.

As the dinner bell rang, we would enter into the dining room and have a first look at the table, draped with antique vintage linens, crystal and china. Each place setting will be set with Aunt Ruth’s sterling silver, crafted in 1890 by Shreve and Company Jeweler’s of San Francisco. There would be dainty salt and pepper shakers at each place-setting, fish forks, cheese spoons and olive picks. The silver alone would evoke the aura of an elegant Christmas dinner in a bygone age.

The center of the table would showcase my father’s annual holiday centerpiece -- aromatic juniper sprigs, holly berries, Oregon Grape and fresh, delicate mistletoe surrounding a cut glass bowl overflowing with green grapes, red bosc pears, persimmons and pomegranate.

We will start dinner with a seafood appetizer: Chilled Lobster and Oyster Cocktail with Cucumber Salad and Aquavit (the Danish, caraway flavored vodka).

In comes the goose on a heavy silver platter ringed with sugared Satsuma oranges, the legs of Mr. Goose bedecked with frilly red and green stockings. We will pass a gravy boat filled with sweet yet slightly sour Chambord Conserve made from the luxurious blackberry liqueur of France, the perfect foil to the rich meat of the goose.

The accompaniments to the goose will be dishes inspired by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Chestnut Spaetzle with Brown Butter and Sage and a Gratin of Belgian Endives.

The finale will be not one, but three desserts. Our guests will have their choice to indulge in one, or all three: Warm Chocolate Cakes with Eggnog Crème Angláise and Peppermint Schnapps Ice Cream. Of course, the buffet table will display an array of holiday cakes, cookies, candies, fruits, cheeses and cracked nuts.

When you are the chef of the family’s Christmas dinner, you do feel a sense of anxiety, along with all of the other stresses that the season entails. So you want to make sure every dish is just right. Start with the freshest, highest quality ingredients you can afford. Study the recipes so that you are fully familiar with the techniques you will employ and the sequence of the cooking processes. With 30 minutes to go before dinner we don’t want any unwelcome surprises. In other words, be prepared, lest your Uncle Roger wince when he bites into a gristly goose gizzard.

Let’s begin with the goose. Domestically raised fresh and frozen geese are available in most supermarkets this time of year. If you prefer to have your goose delivered to the back porch, the internet is your ticket.

I actually recommend a domestic goose over any type of wild goose, the Canadian goose being the most widely recognized species of hunted geese. Wild geese are smaller and leaner, and as a result of their environment and upbringing, the meat is tougher than domestic geese. The flavor in a domestic goose is largely due to the volume of fat that lies just under the breast skin. An advantage God did not give to the wild goose.

Most domestic geese weigh between 10 and 14 pounds, enough for about 4 to 6 guests depending on your appetites. Most of the meat from a goose is found in the breasts, legs and thighs. But the best part of the goose is not the meat of the bird but the fat. You want to save every precious drop of this rich elixir and keep it in the refrigerator. In the weeks succeeding Christmas, that goose fat will prove to be a precious commodity in other dishes.

Let the goose thaw in its plastic wrapping in the refrigerator. This could take up to three days.

Roasting a goose is simple, but you must observe a few precautions. Place the goose, breast side up, on a rack placed in a deep roasting pan. Prick the skin of the breasts with the point of a knife. This will allow the goose to baste itself during roasting, releasing droplets of fat over the skin, making it a deep brown color and crisp texture. But be careful of that hot fat. As the goose roasts the fat squeaks and squirts, and that can be a dangerous combination in a hot oven. I place a small bowl of water next to the roasting pan. This helps create a steam bath, which works to both tenderize the goose and keep those bursts of fat from sparking a fire in the oven.

Secondly, you will need to spoon off the fat as it collects in the bottom of the roasting pan while the goose is roasting. Use a heavy ladle or a metal baster. Baste the goose about every 30 minutes, then spoon out most of the fat in the roasting pan. Pour the fat into a bowl and keep it, covered and refrigerated, to use for sautéing up some potatoes for breakfast the morning after Christmas.

On December 25, I will graciously sit at the table and eat the prime rib that is presented to me. The butterflake rolls, the gravy, the mashed potatoes, the green beans and the pumpkin chiffon pie.

But when I get home I’ll make my own Christmas Dinner.

After dinner I will retire to the living room for a nip of warmed Brandy and Benedictine. Slipping into my favorite chair, the only chair that really knows me, I will prop my feet in front of the fire and revisit stories of Christmas’s past.

And in a few moments, I will nod off into a winter wonderland filled with a new dream. The one about the delicious Christmas goose.