Off to Frog-Leg Land

When we were little my family would always eat dinner together. Most of the time, our maid would cook dinner (please, mom, do not protest. During the week, you did not usually cook. ;-) ) but sometimes my mother would. And generally mom stuck with the tried-and-true...I think. Occasionally there would be the serving of beef tongue in a tomato sauce with olives (disgusting - sorry mom, I don't care if Amy loved it, it was terrible), which might even find its way into our lunch the next day (mom, still can't believe you did this to us) in the form of some ground-up paste spread on bread with pickle relish. (I am suddenly horror-struck...) Moving ON NOW...

But I think I will NEVER forget the dinner of the teenage chicken legs. What, you ask? Teenage Chicken Legs? What are Teenage Chickens? We sat down to dinner that night and my mother pulled a baking sheet out of the oven. Lined up in their little chicken rows on the baking tin were perhaps 50 pairs of...legs. Animal legs. Breaded and baked. My mother casually piled a handful (perhaps 4? 5? pairs) on each of our plates. My sisters and I looked down at the plates with some skepticism. But Amy and I were pretty fearless when it came to food. Emily probably immediately asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After explaining to us carefully that these were teenage chickens ("about your age, girls, just chicken") we proceeded to eat. And truthfully, I don't even remember how they tasted. I just remember eying my dad as we ate. He was LAUGHING as he ate them. (Yes, you were, dad). But he wouldn't say why he was laughing. When we finished, my mom asked: "what did you think? want more?" But before we could answer, my father stood up (he couldn't hold it in any longer) and started...HOPPING around the room. Our mouths fell open. I turned to my mom: "why is dad hopping around?" My mother said "oh, just ignore him. These are french chickens." ????? At which point my dad said: "They are not chickens, they're frog legs!" Needless to say, the teenage girls did not eat any more teenage french chickens. (My mother proceeded to explain after that that in France, it is VERY COMMON to eat frog legs - yes, perfectly natural. :-PPP

I think I haven't eaten frog legs since then, although I have tried plenty of other amphibians and insects and sea creatures in general...

Tomorrow am off to frog-leg land for a week. Looking forward to visiting here for a few hours:



My friend, Dirk, recommended yesterday evening, that we buy a loaf of french bread, a really nice camembert cheese, a bottle of red wine, and then go sit on the beach (or the sea wall, I think he said) and watch the tide for 6-8 hours. Hoping to do so.