PLEASE PASS THE PUPA

I just read Dana Goodyear’s article in the New Yorker (August 15, 2011) entitled “Eating Bugs to Save the Planet.”

Now before a gag reflex overcomes you here are some interesting facts:

  • 4/5th of all animals are insects
  • 80% of the world population already eats insects
  • Insects are four times more efficient converting fuel to meat

Also, did you know the manna that sustained Moses and his followers in the desert was believed to be honeydew, which is excrement of scale insects?  And if that isn’t enough to get you on board, did you know that honey is actually bee vomit, which we can all agree is better than most vomit created from college freshmen during pledge week?

Already some restaurants are featuring insects in their dishes.  Guelaguetza in Los Angeles serves grasshoppers sautéed with onions, jalapenos and tomatoes.  Recent James Beard winner, José Andrés, has created an Oaxacan grasshopper taco.

Most people may see this line of dining avant-garde, but Andrés sees it as a necessary step, saying “We need to feed humanity in a sustainable way.  And although delicious, 7-11’s Slurpees are not the answer.”

Goodyear states in her article that by 2050 there will be over nine billion people and Old Country Buffet will not be able to accommodate them all for Sunday brunch.  So, insects may not be a fad or a personal choice but more of a necessity.

I know if I was on a raft in the middle of the ocean with Jiminy the Cricket, Dora the Explorer and Popeye the Sailor, and food was getting tight, the first thing I would do is ask Popeye if he needed help finishing his spinach.  And if Popeye’s only response was to flex his muscles, I would begin to refer to one of my raft-mates solely as “the cricket.”

There may be valid reasons seeing insects as a source of food even though many hurdles must be overcome.

The Ick Factor.  Let’s face it, when it comes to good looking, most insects are not.  Animals don’t have to be cute to be eaten, but they shouldn’t look like some alien nightmare with eyes bigger than heads, legs longer than torsos and wings that could be strapped to some spaceship.  Plus, insects like to hang out in some nasty quarters: under damp rocks, garbage heaps, rotting carcasses or as Heather Looy, a psychologist who studies food aversions states “They (insects) go into dirty places, but so do fungi… And you don’t want to know about crabs, shrimp and lobster.”

Looy’s right.  I don’t.  So let’s move on two number two.

The names.  Termites. Slugs. Stinkbugs. Maggots. Is anybody going to eat anything with the word cockroach in it?

One way around this problem is to refer to the individual insect by the Latin name.  So if anybody tries to offer you a selection of Tenebrio, take a pass unless you are a big fan of mealworms.

Unbelievable pests.  When a fly lands on a hamburger to take a poop, the rest of the picnic is ruined. The last thing a person thinks when he or she sees a centipede crawling down a kitchen wall is possible appetizer.  When I open a bag of old rice and see tiny little worms crawling through the kernels, I’m never going to say “Great, more protein!”

Too small.  Unlike the Amazon or Africa where insects are the size of apartment dogs, the European and North American counterparts are tiny.  For example it would take 1000 grasshoppers to equal a 12 ounce steak.  Who has the time to round up 1000 grasshoppers for dinner?  But if insects came in bigger sizes, how we approached them would be different.  Or as Tom Turpin, an entomologist at Purdue, says “If there were insects out there the size of pigs, I guarantee there would be a hell of a lot of mother’s who wouldn’t let their kids play in the backyard.”

Taste.  At the latter part of the article Goodyear meets up with an entomology advocate and blogger of “Girl Meets Bug,” Daniella Martin, who treats Goodyear to dinner by making a BLT.  But instead of bacon, Martin substitutes drone honey bees.

“It tastes like bacon,” Martin replies after taking a couple of bites.

Funny, I would think bacon tastes like bacon and bees would taste whatever bees taste like.  Goodyear described the taste as leaving “a disturbing aftertaste of dried shrimp.”

But that didn’t seem to dampen Martin’s enthusiasm for she pulled out a tailless whip scorpion from the freezer.

They say in the article most aversion to insects can be overcome by dipping them in chocolate.  I think that’s cheating.  I’m pretty sure you can dip anything into chocolate and people will eat it.  Cardboard.  Credit cards.  You could probably dip this tailless whip scorpion in a warm pan of melted milk chocolate and I guarantee you I would try to eat around it.

FRENCH FLOP

Yipeeeee!

You may not know this but Thomas Levet won this year’s French Open for golf.  That in itself is not news.  It isn’t even news that Levet won in spite of his age (43) or for being French.  The news is what he did after he won.

According to Fox News, after a nail-biting one-shot win over Mark Foster and Thorbjorn Olsen, Levet, “… impulsively jumped into the lake near the 18th hole, breaking his shin.”

Even with surgery, which required screws and plates, Levet remained positive, stating, “The wonderful memory of winning my national open will definitely keep me going through my recovery.”

Hey kids, here’s a good life lesson.  If you want to celebrate a major victory, the aside picture is a perfect example on what not to do.

Levet’s caddy shows the proper technique when diving into a shallow pool of water by doing the Nestea plunge.  By spreading out he is guaranteed to hit the water with his whole body and not like his boss who is jumping into the pond like a railroad spike.

Forty-three year old men should not do this to their bodies even if it is impulsive, which I find hard to believe.  Impulsive is a spur of the moment, what-was-I-thinking act.  This looks deliberate.  What else explains the lack of shoes?  The caddy doesn’t even have socks.  I wonder if given enough time, if they would have switched into bathing suits before their jump into infamy.

I wonder what would have happened here in the United States if major events of celebration were marred by bone-headed mistakes.  For example, what would have happened if:

Weeeeeeeee!

After completing what later would be memorialized as “The Catch,” tight end, Dwight Clark and quarterback, Joe Montana celebrated their game-tying touchdown by impulsively leading San Francisco 49ers in the “Cowboy Boogie.” Their out-of-step line dance would quickly be penalized for delay of game.  And their choice of dance selection would draw another flag for taunting.  And after receiving a short-field advantage on the following kickoff, the Dallas Cowboys would proceed to move down the field, kick a last second field goal and go onto to represent the NFC in Super Bowl XVI.

In 1803 after purchasing 828,000 square miles from the French for $15 million dollars, Thomas Jefferson would proceed to “flip” the Louisiana Territory by selling it back to the Spaniards for $20 million.  No upkeep or renovation costs, with the stroke of a pen, Jefferson would net the new and fledgling country of the United States a 25% profit in two weeks.  Although an astute business move at the time, “I made a f-ing killing!” would eventually go on to become one of the most infamous presidential quotes of all time, even surpassing Richard Nixon’s, “I’m not a crook!”

"NASA we're $%$#!!!"

On July 21st, 1969  after landing the lunar module, The Eagle, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would become the first people ever to walk on the surface of the moon.  The astronauts would proceed to plant the United States flag and telephone President Richard Nixon who would assure them that he was indeed not a crook.  And after exploring the moon’s East Crater and taking some pictures, they would head back and quickly discover they had accidentally locked themselves out of the lunar module.  “Crap, Aldrin!” would quickly replace, “A giant leap for mankind.”

Cheers!

And finally, after winning the prestigious 2011 James Beard Award for Outstanding Chef, José Andrés, would go on to celebrate in low fashion by treating his whole staff at Washington DC’s renowned minibar to Domino’s Pizza and a keg of Miller High Life.  His only reply to the disgruntled staff on the food selection would be, “I won a Beard not a Nobel.  Pass me another slice of pepperoni.”

And so ends our U.S. history lesson if any of our leaders in politics, space exploration, sports and the arts decided to go jump in a lake.