10 + 11 points
Death Kava by Dan Cer
December 18th, 2010 11:11 AM
Aside from a brief flash of courage when I was six or so, I had always been scared of insects. As I've gotten older, the amorphous nature of my fear crystallized into an abject terror of biting -- both on the giving end and on the receiving end. The sole exception was when my mother assured my six-year-old self that cicada larvae were edible, and -- to be fair, it was at my insistence -- she proceeded to fry up a pair of the lovely things for breakfast that we had caught the night before. If I recall correctly, they tasted like crunchy egg yolk.
But! I digress.
J and I found ourselves in a part of town with a tasty Mexican joint, and our bellies pointedly reminded us that it had been several hours since we had last feasted, so in we went.
The menus are these lovely things which fold out not only on the left and right, but also on top and bottom.
Perusing the appetizers, J and I discovered this "tasty" dish.
As the shudder descended my spine and settled familiarly in my tummy, I realized the potential for tasking. J had already declared that if the restaurant had it, he was going to eat it, so reluctantly, I capitulated.
I took a tentative bite, half expecting the thing to wriggle and thrash in my teeth.
For a moment, I was paralyzed with indecision, fear, and the heat of the empanada threatening to scorch my mouth.
But actually it wasn't so bad... until I looked closer, and discovered that grasshoppers had rather lovely, segmented bellies.
If I hadn't known what it was, I might have been happier to eat it. The grasshopper filling had a mouth-watering tang to it, as well as an odd tooth-texture that was at once crunchy and sticky. It didn't taste bad, but I was acutely aware of every bite, especially the one where I crushed the grasshopper's head between my right molars.
I think next time I visit this fine establishment, I will happily set aside any misplaced courage and stick with a platter of nice, safe, and adorably individually wrapped tamales. (Sorry, they were too cute and tasty for me to have taken photos -- I was hungry!)
But! I digress.
J and I found ourselves in a part of town with a tasty Mexican joint, and our bellies pointedly reminded us that it had been several hours since we had last feasted, so in we went.
The menus are these lovely things which fold out not only on the left and right, but also on top and bottom.
Perusing the appetizers, J and I discovered this "tasty" dish.
As the shudder descended my spine and settled familiarly in my tummy, I realized the potential for tasking. J had already declared that if the restaurant had it, he was going to eat it, so reluctantly, I capitulated.
I took a tentative bite, half expecting the thing to wriggle and thrash in my teeth.
For a moment, I was paralyzed with indecision, fear, and the heat of the empanada threatening to scorch my mouth.
But actually it wasn't so bad... until I looked closer, and discovered that grasshoppers had rather lovely, segmented bellies.
If I hadn't known what it was, I might have been happier to eat it. The grasshopper filling had a mouth-watering tang to it, as well as an odd tooth-texture that was at once crunchy and sticky. It didn't taste bad, but I was acutely aware of every bite, especially the one where I crushed the grasshopper's head between my right molars.
I think next time I visit this fine establishment, I will happily set aside any misplaced courage and stick with a platter of nice, safe, and adorably individually wrapped tamales. (Sorry, they were too cute and tasty for me to have taken photos -- I was hungry!)
I'm fine with the food, but the font on the menu frightens me.