Saturday, December 22, 2007
My computer won't let me attach images; the pertinent windows won't open. It's super-frustrating because I want to feature more than just words. I store images on my zip drive, visit computers at work or the public library and patch the drafts and the images there. I'd love to get a new computer but that's not feasible.
My family responsibilities take up a lot of time, so I can't get to the above locations as much as I'd like.
So in lieu of real insect news, here's a solstice-season whine.
On the more positive side: a bunch of cool projects are going on, and though they might well be a bit dated by the time I blog them I promise I will share the details with all.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
It's cold now, the insects are gone. I can only anticipate more hunts next year and recall this setting of past strivings; the epic struggles between a determined human hunter and a host of highly-evolved flying insects.
Man Eating Bugs, the impressive ‘picture-book’ by Menzel and D’Alusio that illustrates worldwide entomophagy, includes dragonfly hunting on the exotic island of Bali. The people there call them ‘sky prawns,’ which is significant. I knew I’d have to go get some, and that the hunt would be hard work. I once read about a simple way to catch dragonflies – pluck them while they rest on branch-tips over little streams at night. But I’ve never found them that way. It would be either stalk/charge/swing-the-net or nothing.
This made the hunt the most labor-intensive I’ve executed. Some would say more laborious than the prey is worth but if I started listening to the voice of reason I might be tempted to give up on entomophagy altogether, and hat would be a crying shame.
The Indonesian method was similar, but craftier. The hunter [generally kids] would visit the ponds and paddies frequented by dragonflies. The tool of choice: a considerable length of reed, the end of which coated in sticky tree sap. This would be held out like a perch and yet flicked at the right moment, taking an insect while on the wing.
My technique: Iaido-style. The haft is held down and to my left, across the body, double-handed. Having sighted my target, I approach stiffly, one footfall at a time. I would keep my eyes locked (not always as easy, especially when another target would interpose) until the moment to swing the net. Once I learned to swing just above the insect's resting position I could sometimes see it rise into the net's apeture, but at least as often I saw it sail away over or beyond the net. My average was not very impressive but I improved.
The documentation: minimal, merely these words and images. I've been obliged to work alone so there’s no one to hold a camera. I took these pictures so I'm not in them. I probably looked so ridiculous out there that only motion picture [a la Youtube] would have done it justice.
The results: not too bad.
I haven't done much to identify them; this bothers me a little, since, given how little is known about which insect species are edible and which aren't, it would be useful to have a lock on what I plan to eat or to serve to the public. But I've spoken with an expert or two, and there seems to be no records of any toxic in dragonflies North America. So that's reassuring.
I did get some large grasshoppers along the way. They're much easier to identify, by and large, when it comes to that: they're Dissosteira carolina and they're not easy to catch. In fact before I developed my own technique I looked really silly chasing them across the field as I missed getting them again and again. Once I got my method on, though, things were slightly different: I caught them once in every 5 tries instead of once in every 12, and though I still looked ridiculous it wasn't quite as bad.
There were other good moments out in the field; birds, deer. Once I surprised a young black racer and managed both to get him in the net and then out again in my hands before he could foul the material with his very nasty-smelling cloacal emissions. After admiring him I let him go. After all, this is not a reptile-eating endeavor I’m running here, and I have no interest in taking an animal from the wild as a pet.
The eating: dragonflies taste a bit like burned toast, but the texture is unique.
It's no surprise that cooking the dragonflies robs them of some of their delicate perfection. They look pretty good on the plate, but nothing compared to freshly-frozen.
What will I do with these insects now that I've got them? They're available for the contest in Richmond, or for some special order from a customer. And I'll probably experiment with a preparation or two as well.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
It's been a long while since I've posted, and I can offer only poor excuses like my day-job and family responsibilities. But I haven't abandoned the noble cause, nor the desire to communicate through this humble blog. Please know that I'm working on a couple of posts and they'll be out soon.
Also, this coming Tuesday, 11/20, I'll be a featured guest at the meeting of New England branch of the Explorer's Club. It's scheduled for 8pm at the Blacksmith House, 56 Brattle Street in Harvard Square. The public is welcome, and there's a suggested voluntary donation of $10.
Perhaps, gentle readers, I'll meet one of you there.
Monday, November 5, 2007
The most labor-intensive prep was ‘filleting’ the Giant Water Bugs. We [I got a lot of help from the staff and students at the Genesis Center) did 175 of them. I thought a good deal about what the professional crab-pickers did with those world-famous Chesapeake Bay Blue Crabs.
This is the empty square. The Six-and-five-eighths ounces of empty weight is equivalent to 188g.
Later, filled with the meat of the 175 insects, the one-pound-and-three ounces equaled 540g. Close perusal will reveal two kinds of tissue; the darker and more-square pieces are from the thorax of the animals, and might just correspond to pectoral muscle(?). The lighter-colored stuff is more connective rather than central. If that makes any sense. Seeing the inside of the insect would be helpful; I'll try to get some good macro shots of that this winter.
Here are the shells. The weight was 2 pounds and 11 oz. I don’t have the metric equivalent but it doesn’t really matter since this mound does not represent all 175 of the insects; some were discarded and could not be retrieved. I tried to boil the shells so as to get a stock but they proved far too salty to work with.
And Here Is The Finished Product!:
[Photo by David Winthrop]
The first name we gave it -- we being myself and Chef Branden Lewis of the Genesis Center, who was wonderful to collaborate with -- was Sour Candy Canape. This name reflected the fact that the bug's meat is reminiscent of sour candy, especially for example Jolly Rancher. But this first name morphed into WaterBugaMelon, since Branden wanted to be more clear about the fact that the dish contained insect protein material.
Traditionally, some people salt their watermelon in the summer. The saltiness-yet-fruitiness of the meat paired well with the fruits. The cocktail umbrella is for decoration only.
Then there were the crickets, which were good also although the planned dish didn't quite get off the ground. The intention was to 'honey-roast' them and serve with popcorn. We were to call it "Popcrick," and maybe next October we'll get it nailed down. Here they are on the roasting pan
and yeah, they were tasty; the sugar didn't overwhelm the nuttiness of the crickets themselves. But we had some problems with the popcorn maker, and in the end I'll need a real honey roaster, which I've seen at carnivals and suchlife venues but I haven't found something affordable that could fit the need.
I was too busy that evening to take pictures of the diners, but I may be able to track down some images one of these days. My tables were quite busy, though, and the even raised my company profile here in Providence, as well as started me off with a really nice collaboration with The Genesis Center, which is a great place.
I'll be serving the bugs at the next Food For Thought in October 2008.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I plan to have some pictures of the event: as it happens I've got three events before it coming up: Syracuse in a few days -- the 29th -- and then Central Square, Cambridge, on the 13th, and then Oak Knoll Audubon Center's Spooktacular on the 20th.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
On August 1st I was invited to participate in the first annual Broad Appétit, a festival hosted by Richmond's Downtown Neighborhood Association. On Sunday, May 18, 2008, from noon until 5 p.m., West Broad Street will feature Richmond's finest chefs, a bug chef cook-off, specialty food vendors and visual artists. There will be food demonstrations and competitions, a mini-Farmers' Market, children's activities, street performers, music and more. The event will be heavily promoted through print material and advertisements in print and on the radio.
The slightly longer story is this: David George Gordon (whom I saw give his bug cooking presentation way back in 2002 here in Providence, and who, it must be admitted, has been a sort of model for my efforts) has competed against the redoubtable Zack Lemann in the past, and Zack was approached for this event so that the pair could duke it out once more. But AH!, Zack has a engagement set for that weekend that cannot be shifted. Thus the mind reaches for some replacement, so that the contest aspect of the thing can be realized. My name is broached, and deemed acceptable to all parties.
Naturally the news has thrown me into excited nervousness, and it's taken me a week of thinking about it to be ready to "blog it." I need to start planning. More updates on that progress to come.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Today I dropped off a half-pound of the tiny chapulines at TWO popular restaurants here in Providence. I won't say which ones just yet, other than one of them is a Mexican place and one serves hipsters and artist-types. In a little while I'll ask them if I can include their names in this blog; what matters for the moment is that these adventurous people had taken samples from me and decided that it was time to play with a new ingredient.
In fact I'd made one or two previous small-scale sales before these, from that larger order I'd picked up last month. I know that there are other restaurants out there also willing to take the plunge, and I'll be selling frozen/chilled insects at a few of my up-coming events.
Thus the whole thing grows....
And there are precedents models out there. Zack Lemann (last name is pronounced as 'Lemon,' by the way) is one of those few well-known insect chefs around. He's out of New Orleans and is currently orchestrating a venue at which regular insect-cooking demonstrations will be taking place. This is pretty amazing stuff. These are some of his culinary creations.
First is f-ANT-assticcrackers. The key ingredient is "Hormigas Culonas," the Leaf-Cutter Ant Queens. These were harvested in Colombia.
The Grasshopper Gumbo. These are lubber grasshoppers; they're quite large, and there's a big question about them.
Odonate Hors D'Ouerves. These are tempura-fried dragonflies on mushroom slices.
The Split Pea Whole Hopper Soup
Recently I was able to glean a few things from a chef at a party thrown by an Entomological Society. By and large this was a regular summer shindig: there were the traditional expected foods --
Grilled chicken; salmon; hamburgers and hot dogs. A token ear of corn.
And there was a variety of cooked insects:
One might say that these were "grilled," but in my slowly growing sense of clue regarding cooking I'd guess they were more steamed on the grill. While no liquid had been added, the convection from the coals never got through the foil, which means that no grilling was going on.
And how were these insects? Not so good. Too damp. The Giant Hissing Cockroaches were easily the worst, in fact they were inedible as a result of the whole 'juices trapped in the bug's body' reality. Really roasting them would likely be better, the more so after either ventilating the insect or even removing the gut.
The worst part was that the insects were basically wasted, because few people wanted to try them. I had quite a bit, but it looked hopeless.
Then in stepped Steven, who's a real chef. He was curious about insect cookery, and he showed me the best way to fry insects.
Here he is, keeping close watch over the crickets.
And a shot of the silkworm pupae that followed:
Worth noting: the netted-scoop-tool to the left of the pan is known as a 'spider.' That's amusing.
This was the first chance I've had to learn and prepare for the future. Making insects into haute cuisine makes me wish I had some real training.
Monday, July 23, 2007
One kind of answer deals with the details – dry-toasted cricket tastes like sunflower seeds; katydid like toasted avocado; palm grub like bacon soup with a chewy, sweet finish. Weaver ant pupae have practically no flavor, while the meat of the giant water bug is, astonishingly, like a salty, fruity, flowery Jolly Rancher. People are usually amazed by it.
The other kind of answer is more theoretical and conceptual: often, insects taste the way that people expect them to. After all, they’re absolutely outside the norm for us and it’s considered freakish to eat them. If insects were delicious then we’d all know it and we’d eat them, since we like delicious food. Whereas if insects are perceived [however incorrectly] as dirty, disgusting, disease-bearing vermin, the chances that they’ll be deemed delicious are pretty low.
Last March David Letterman had an exotic foods expert on the show; the occasion was a banquet at The Explorers Club. There was a long table set up with a slew of weird foods – giant hissing cockroaches were visible, but the short segment did not include that tasting. Letterman tried boiled ostrich egg, eyeballs, rattlesnake, and a bunch of other stuff. Both along the way and at the end he proclaimed them all horrible. Given that these foods were part of a lavish banquet given every year at a prestigious institution, the culinary preparations would not be in doubt. Rather, it’s likelier that Letterman (and, by extension, a lot of people) tried the food expecting it to be awful and this created its own outcome.
This is part of the challenge that I face. In my experience it’s not very often that those people who are willing to try an insect find it delicious. Three possible reasons for that occur to me: 1, that the insects are simply not good-tasting; 2, my cooking skills are not very good; or 3, the afore-mentioned culturally-based predilection toward the rejection of bugs as food.
On the other hand, the most frequent response I get from a taster at one of my events is, “Gee, that’s really not so bad.” This is actually encouraging, and part of me thinks that I should be quite satisfied with that reaction. I’m not. The goal must be to have people amazed at how truly tasty the insects are. I fault my cooking skills, or lack thereof, and I’ve resolved to partner with chefs so that I can bring my abilities to the next level, and do the insect ingredients justice, at last.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The ultimate source of information online regarding the edibility of insects. Includes: entomology; nutrition; general research; cultural aspects; societal reactions; etc, etc.
Further articles and content from The Food Insects Newsletter (FINL)
LOTS of good info, but no images. From what I've gathered, this is one of the earlier websites created. It was gone for a while, but it's back. Wrought by one Aletheia Price, who was 17 at the time. Includes recipes. I believe that a good deal of the same content can be found at
Hailing from the Seattle Area, David George Gordon is the most renowned entomophagist in the country. He's written a slew of books on various kinds of "bugs," including a cookbook; the site includes one or two of the recipes therewithin.
Representing the good people at B.A.B.E.S., the Bay Area Bug Eating Society (which may or may not be currently active). The site's creator is Scott Bowers, who has traveled to various parts of the world in order to eat their insects. Includes recipes.
Various images of people eating insects.
From the University of Kentucky
Other insect recipes
Raising mealworms and crickets
[Highly Helpful] General Insect stuff:
This last one is a really cool project to gather a lot of information centered on the insect hobbyist, including a lot of good insect-rearing help.
This might not seem a dramatic image. It was the site of a great catastrophe, at least from the perspective of the carpenter ant colony that lived there. I am what befell that colony.
I'd first turned over the log on impulse, and replaced it carefully when I found a seething mass of large, winged black ants. I returned the next day and a few times after that over the next four or five days. The ants were members of the genus Camponotus, a.k.a. carpenter ants. I've known for some time that people have eaten these ants here and there; supposedly lumberjacks in 19th Century Maine ate them to avoid scurvy.
I'd envisioned a "clean kill," meaning a labor-efficient harvest wherein I could harvest the insects only. It didn't work out that way, mostly because the ants had no interest in being harvested and therefore tried to run away very quickly. And it's true that that seething business rattled me; I knew that the ants couldn't hurt me, it was just that as I was scrambling to collect as many as I could, this is what I ended up with:
A whole lot of wood bits, dead leaves, and some soil, with a good deal of ant-made sawdust. It required a good deal of processing. I would've liked to document this process, but the sad truth about both this blog and much of my work in entomophagy is that I do a lot of it alone so there's no one to hold the camera.
I had about six or sevent containers from my various raids; some had this litter from the forest floor; in others it was mostly sawdust from inside the log. I found that sifting the mix in large bowls worked quite well, reminiscent of the old-fashioned wheat-from-chaff technique. All of this in order to get to the prize: the pupae.
Of course I'd collected a heck of a lot of ants too, and I was most interested in them also, despite my slight concerns about Wolbachia -- an endosymbiont that wouldn't do me much good if it was in my system. Here's the ants with a few bits of wood [toward the end of the sifting].
And here they are again -- the queen (one of many; methinks the colony, having done well for itself, was about to send a whole raft of winged alates into the the world); some drones; and the necessary workers.
I find the ants quite beautiful, dead or alive. And working on prepping them as food emphasized what I'd felt when I was collecting them at that log -- a touch of guilt.
I thought of the colony as a society or a machine consisting of living parts, each of which pursues its function for the greater good of the whole. This conception is on my mind quite a lot, and it's something that I'm pretty sure I wouldn't find in hunting magazines (if I read them, that is). A "real" hunter, as represented in such publications, respects his or her mission and goal; respects the quarry and the landscape too; honors the kill, but doesn't succumb to any feelings of guilt about having to kill. After all, hunting is simply the involvement of the meat-consumer in the process of getting the meat, and therefore the hunter is more authentic than someone who simply lets others do the killing, and merely picks up the wrapped and sanitized Styrofoam tray in the supermarket. There's a lot to be said about that perspective.
I appreciate the times when I feel this way, which I sometimes do. Other times, though, I have other feelings. When I was collecting cicadas off the trees in New Jersey in 2004 I thought a lot about the fact that these insects had been underground for 17 years, all in order to emerge and mate and die. All of that time in preparation for procreation -- arguably, the prime evolutionary function and purpose of every organism. And here I was, getting in the way of that. Granted, it's not much of a stretch to say that I was acting like any other predator. The mass emergence strategy of these multiple billions of cicadas was an evolutionary response to my actions as much as it was to the actions of birds, snakes, skunks, raccoons, bats, etc. The cicadas are a temporary banquet. "Go ahead," the vast numbers seem to say. "Eat all you want. We'll make more anyway. All of your efforts cannot make much of a dent in our overall numbers." How generous. Yet I remember the mixed feelings as I scooped up dozens of handfuls of live adult, newly-winged cicadas and the just-emerging nymphs into the large ziploc bags that went straight into the large icy cooler.
And so it was with these ants. A nation is attacked by something with greater technology. I don't really need to kill the ants, since I have lots of other foods that I could eat. But I'm trying to make a point here with entomophagy. It's just like other kinds of hunting, right?
Another kind of hunting these days has been for dragonflies (and the odd grasshopper along the way). It's the opposite of 'anting;' for one thing, it requires stalking and netting the individual insect, and so it would seem to be less labor-efficient. Given the way that I've executed this ant project, though, it's a toss-up.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Here's the scene at the Newark Museum's BugMania2. I was serving at the far tent.
This is Sarah, who really did enjoy her insects. I'm pretty sure that her grimace came from the fact that the cicada (barely visible between her teeth) was a little chewier than she'd expected.
One might ask whether images like this are good for the cause, given what an ordeal it looks like for her. But this may just be the face of someone readjusting her ideas about food, and getting used to a new concept -- after all, the vast majority of participants have never before deliberately eaten an insect -- one that, a week before or even 30 minutes before, seemed repulsive. So that's great progress then.
Besides, this blog is about what it's like to operate an edible insect company; therefore I'm not interested in pretending as though there won't be difficulties along the way. I'll blog the good and the not-so-perfect, like the resistance that inevitably comes..... Though Sarah was a great sport.
Visting with students in the Boston area.
Both Mom and Son tasted the crickets and/or cicadas; that day there were several kids -- and some adults -- who asked for seconds. I'm pretty sure he was one of them.
I never got this guy's name, but just look at that facial expression! He knew how to enjoy a good bug.
And once more: the look of YUM.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
But before I go into detail about those bugs I'll focus on the people part of all this. These are the educational programs [and other notable business-related activities] I've done thus far. My website doesn't yet feature the entire list -- I'll put that on the list of things to do...
10/6: Peabody Museum of Natural History - Yale University; New Haven CT
3/7: ESA [Entomological Society of America] Eastern Branch Conf.; New Haven CT
3/17: AS220 Gallery; Providence RI
3/20: ESA [Entomological Society of America] Eastern Branch Conf.; Harrisburg PA
7/31: EcoTarium; Worcester MA
9/10: Dennison-Pequotsepos Nature Center; Mystic CT
10/9 Roger Williams Museum of Natural History; Providence RI
11/9: Menunkatuck Audubon; Guilford CT
9/15: Centers for Nature Education at Baltimore Woods; Marcellus NY
9/16: Helmer Nature Center; Rochester NY
10/7: Powder Mill Ledges Audubon Refuge; Smithfield RI
10/31: La Laiterie; Providence RI
11/17: Community MusicWorks; Providence RI
11/25: Jamestown Philomena Library; Jamestown RI
11/26: EcoTarium; Worcester MA
2/21: Radio Show Interview, WNRI; Woonsocket RI
3/10: Portsmouth Public Library; Portsmouth RI
3/15: Shipment, Tonight Show with Jay Leno; Burbank CA
3/17: Peace Valley Nature Center; Doylestown PA
3/18: ESA [Entomological Society of America] Eastern Branch Conf.; Harrisburg PA
4/17: NY Entomological Society; New York, NY
5/24: Cranston-Calvert Elementary School; Newport RI
5/24: Broad Meadow Brook Audubon; Worcester MA
6/09: Newark Museum; Newark NJ
6/25: Shipment, meeting of the Washington Entomological Society; Washington D.C.
8/01: Radio Show Interview, WNRI; Woonsocket RI
8/05: Farmer's Market; Mystic CT
8/12: NOFA Conference; Amherst MA
9/6: Powder Mill Ledges Audubon Refuge; Smithfield RI
9/29: Centers for Nature Education at Baltimore Woods; Marcellus NY
10/13: Central Square Festival; Cambridge MA
I bolded the last few listings because at this point they're coming up.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
I’d contacted a member of http://www.bugguide.net/, a pretty cool group that posts images of North American insects and other arthropods; identifies the species, collates geographical information, etc, etc. My contact lives in Texas and had posted images of leaf-cutter ants – specifically the alates, meaning the winged reproductives that some types of colony-living insects send out at specific times. In this case that would be, more or less, in the second half of May.
These ants [in the genus Atta] are cherished delicacies in Colombia and other places between there and the U.S. Were it not for concerns about slowing down these posts with lots of extra text I’d cite some intriguing stuff about the Spaniards, when they arrived in what became Colombia, scorning the local caviar, as it was thought of, only to attempt seizing control of the ant colonies once they got a taste for the insects. This decision provoked an uprising from the natives. Those interested in reading this for themselves can find it here.
Though at first that Texas connection wrote that -- had missed the brief emergence-time of those winged queen ants, word later came that -- had been successful after all! Very exciting news.
At length the large box arrived [note my foot for scale, and that I've cleverly obscured the sender's address on the shipping document]
inside was a Styrofoam cooler,
and inside that was OVER TWO POUNDS of ants.
They’re beautiful, impressive insects.
The real question, though: how do they taste? The morning after I got them I laid a few down on a hot iron skillet. I tried both winged and wing-free individuals; unlike those of the cicadas, these wings really did get in the way. The flavor is very nice; surprisingly mild.
I’ve tried these ants before – pre-packaged [and quite expensive.] The flavor is very intense, almost harsh. I’ve heard that fresh off the vendor’s cart in Colombia they’re heavenly (and, again, quite expensive). The ants are still enjoyed today, and are called “hormigas culonas,” or ‘big-bottom ants’ due to their impressive abdomens.
Given that I've greatly enjoyed these ants in other settings, I'm pretty certain that I can make them taste even better.
This item is just the kind of thing that those few discerning customers ask for; the ones who want more from life than the standard crickets and mealworms. When this happens I'm ready.
Also worth mentioning: I've seen one or two websites centered on the harvest and preparation of these ants in Colombia. Not altogether surprisingly, these sites are in Spanish, which I cannot translate. So getting some help with that would be great...
On the other side of the plate are the mopani worms; they shall have their own substantial post at some point.... Boy, would I love to get a source of those!!
As for the Texan ants: my source mentioned having some ideas for, hopefully, an even bigger harvest next Spring.
Inside were two offerings: a wonderful book on insects and their varied environments around the world...
Check out the 'warrior-mantid' pose. Many kinds of mantids go through this display -- you might call it a bluff except that they're quite capable of doing some damage with their raptorial fore-limbs. It's not hard to find accounts of mantids killing and eating birds and other surprisingly large prey.
The other contents of the package: within the large envelope, the entire first incarnation of The Food Insects Newsletter, clearly the best repository of information on entomophagy. The Newsletter was founded in 1988 by Gene DeFoliart at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. After 22 issues [3 per year] it was taken over by Florence Dunkel at the University of Montana, where another 12 issues were published. This second phase of the FINL seems to have ended as of July 1999, though that may well change at some point.
I've long been fond of the Newsletter's logo. It gave me inspiration for my own company's graphic...
Within the sphere of those who know about or have some curiosity about entomophagy (which we know has never been a particularly popular subject) this publication is quite well known. People have asked me about the FINL at several of the events that I've run, and when the subject of entomophagy comes up on the ENTOMO-L listserv, for example, the Newsletter is always mentioned. It's a real shame that this resource is not currently available.
Friday, July 6, 2007
In mid-April 2005 I posted a classified ad on a site devoted to insect-collecting. I’d been lurking there for some time, uninterested in their discussions of cherished pinned specimens, etc. This was the ad:
Wanted!! Edible Insects! Educator seeks reliable, safe sources of processed edible insects from around the world. Will arrange permits, etc with you [not difficult]. Orders between 1 and 2 kilos desired, though this is negotiable. The insect products should be dried or canned. NO PRESERVED SPECIMENS, as they are not edible. NO LIVE SPECIMENS.
That’s what brought Nick into the picture. My non-partnership with Nick Kugbeadzor of Accra, Ghana was like other things in life.
At least some of what I’m going to say from here on out may seem a little ridiculous, at least in the light of 20/20 hindsight.
Eventually other things became clear to me. For example, shipping only one or two kilos would be very expensive, and I didn’t know the first thing about the permits I’d alluded to. In the bigger picture, it hadn’t occurred to me that maybe there were good reasons why no one else had been importing mopane from Africa.
I remember it seeming like magic; in fact it was a form of seduction. He was enthusiastic and optimistic; he was playing me like a $2 fiddle, and I completely failed to see it. But I take some comfort in the fact that a huge number of people are routinely swindled out of their hard-earned money, and many of them lose far more than I did. So a little contextualization helps.
I’m not telling how much I sent. This is because everyone would have his or her own reaction as to what constitutes a lot of money. Some would be awestruck that I had sent so much while others would think it a small loss. It was neither; but it was a considerable sum from my point of view, and that’s the key variable.
[[[UPDATE (of sorts)]]]
It’s now late November, 2008, and perhaps I’m committing a breach of blog etiquette by messing with chronology but I can explain. I’m just now replacing this entry, having removed it at Nick’s request, which was many months ago. He said that the post would damage his reputation (HA!) and that if I removed it he would make things right between us. Sounded good to me, so I complied.
A longer version of this entry – which might well be complete with an excerpt of our IM exchanges – will hopefully find a home in the book I plan to get published.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Some species live only one year; the periodic cicadas are better known due to their staggering emergences. A predator-response strategy has led the species to stay beneath ground for either 13 or 17 years (depending on the particular species) and then come up more or less at the same time. This allows a range of creatures to eat as many as they want and still allow a good percentage of the insects a chance to reproduce.
And here's a single one:
In 2004 the "famous" Brood X emerged in many states on the Eastern Seaboard; I drove down to Princeton, NJ; slept in my car on campus during Memorial Day weekend; and harvested eight or nine pounds of cicadas from a few massive beech trees on the Princeton campus. I've been serving them -- sauteed or dry-toasted -- to the public ever since. A few images of that event are on my website.
Though the bowl design features "pasta," we should note that insects are basically the protein source of a meal.
Cicadas are found worldwide and are a very popular food. Heck, Aristotle wrote that the last earth-bound stage, before the animal breaks through its thin brown shell, that's the tastiest. He loved them.