The kitchen is the great equalizer. Food doesn’t care about the colour of your skin…
Oh… the humanity!
Dear Kermit –
We both knew this would happen sooner or later. Cooking at a French school, we were bound to encounter the distasteful task of cooking frog. To be more exact… frog’s legs.
It brought me no joy to sever fine the joints and season the tender meat. Visions of a childhood spent in the ponds and streams of Vancouver’s lower mainland, rubber boots on, in search of early spring tadpoles, the hum of tree frogs, the movement of frogs in one’s pockets when delightedly taking them home to show one’s Mother, only to be ordered to “put them back where you found them!”
Years later in Nova Scotia; the joyful discovery of frogs in my very own pond at the foot of the tree in the backyard of the Dragonfly Inn. A pond I built… to encourage such visitors. Falling asleep to the din of the spring peepers, a throbbing chorus of sound, reminiscent of the jungle.
Imagine my distaste at cooking your friends. But cook them I did. Covered in a creamy, frog flavored sauce and also, lightly sauteed served with tomatoes.
But I didn’t eat them Kermit! I just couldn’t…
(Did taste them though. Saltier than I expected.)
Thus passed Week VIII. Frog and midterms. Passed them both. Two more weeks of classes and then, it is time for final exams. Memorizing recipes and producing them under scrutiny. Wish me luck Kermit… wish me luck.
Good thing you have that great job with Sesame Street. Oh and Kermit… please… don’t ever go to France.