Like the first frosty morning of November or the first flower of spring, the first goose of the season is supposed to awake emotions. Sometimes it’s “wow, man, did I miss that taste.” Other times, it’s “shit, was it really always so bad?” The only emotion I had when I started to eat the Rosenhof’s goose was “What the hell did they put into the dumpling?” To me, it tasted like stationery. Not that I am a great connoisseur of minced pencils.
Apparently, it was a truffle, which the cook decided to add to the dumpling together with some herbs to make its dry nature a bit more exciting. It is a pity he did not put the same amount of creativity into the other parts of the dish, particularly the goose itself. It was a good bird, tender and well roasted, but I struggled to find anything special about it, either brilliant or disastrous. The red cabbage was alike: neither sweet nor sour, neither crunchy nor soggy. Highly unusually, the first goose of the year offered nothing to remember it for.
I did like the Rosenhof, however. A combination of a small hotel and a restaurant, it has a quiet and cozy inner courtyard with perfectly cut green grass and beautiful roses. The garden is neat and clean to perfection, and perhaps it is that love for faultlessness that turned the goose into something completely edible yet instantly forgettable.