It was the first time I'd bought a goose, a whole goose, and my heart sank when I saw it.
H and I were at Hong Kong International Airport two Wednesdays ago. We had spent a nice four days eating and shopping and eating, and were on our way home.
After we went through Immigration, I had a brainwave.
Let's buy a roast goose, I announced.
You sure?, he asked, looking sceptical. It wasn't the sort of thing he thought people bought at airports. You don't even really like goose, he added.
It's for my mum, I said. Everyone buys back a roast goose when they visit Hong Kong, I added confidently.
I asked a woman at the information desk where I could get a goose and she pointed to the airport's restaurants.
We saw two outlets selling roast meat and joined the one with the shorter queue.
The cashier said they did sell goose for travellers to take away, and asked if I wanted it whole or chopped. Whole, I said.
We paid $80 for it. Ten minutes later, our number was called and we were handed a cardboard box.
It was a much bigger box than I'd expected, about the size of three iPads.
Through the plastic portion on the cover, I saw our goose. Its skin was red, crispy and crackling with oil. Its long, thin neck was curled up like the letter O and its head - complete with battered beak and beady eyeballs - flopped to one side.