A bag of goose eggs has recently become part of my larder and although I tweeted loudly, as I imagine the goose did at the moment of their delivery, no one replied to my tweets for “wonderful ideas for goose eggs”. Having spent some time with them I have begun to understand the silence. Eggs, in the end, are eggs. Quails’ eggs make a good effort at being different and clever, but the thought of nibbling at a hard boiled goose egg rolled in celery salt is making me gag. There is something daunting about goose eggs. Even the shell itself is like armour. A firm tap with the egg on the edge of a china mixing bowl is like saying goodbye to your mixing bowl. There will be only one winner in that contest. I hit them, not tapped them, with a big knife and they seemed to open as if on a hinge. At that moment the legend of geese laying golden eggs was clearly illustrated by the colour of the yolk. One of the two eggs that I opened last night made a wonderfully rich version of piperade for two people. The other was used to make frangipane, part of which I used in a very good pear and almond tart. The recipe comes from the pen of Mary Cadogan and is included in her book “Pies and Tarts”. I made a change in that I added a dessertspoon of “Poire William) instead of almond essence.