I took my didgeridoo toting, poi spinning, boca burger scarfing, vegetarian ass to the airport for dinner last thursday night. I wasn't traveling. I wasn't picking anybody up. I wasn't dropping anybody off. I repeat: I went to the airport solely for the repast. man, I was buggin'. this goes against one of the earliest life lessons that I received from my parents.
you know how parents teach you to not steal? to look both ways before crossing the street? to not singe your eyelashes while playing with aerosol cans and lighters? I got those as well, but only slightly less well known is this - airplane food sucks. there's only one food in the world which is less alluring than airplane food, and that, simply put, is airport food. the very notion gave me inner turmoil as we drove to the airport. one question burned in my mind (and maybe elsewhere) - where's the pepto bismol?
sure as heck not at the airport.
we were on our way to typhoon. and we were to eat bugs. speaking of parental life lessons, wasn't one of them to not eat bugs? I clearly remember the "don't eat dirt" edict, but I can't remember being expressly told to not eat bugs. maybe that was indiana jones and the temple of doom? I don't know. I'm sure at least half of my co-parents mentioned it at least once.
but dan, you exclaim, you're a vegetarian. you're kind to all living things. you don't consume the cute and the innocent (uhhhh). denis leary says that we don't eat otters because they make cutesy little human faces. bugs are like cows. get in the truck. there are things that I hold more dear than my diet.
we got to the restaurant and it was like a burning man reunion. at the table sat the birthday guest of honor lizzc,
the food arrived. out popped the cameras. in popped the insects.
the ants were fairly uneventful. they had the appearance of black licorice nerds. they were served with shoestring potatoes and were really more about the idea of eating ants than any flavor that the ants provide. or maybe they're really good for you and we'll start seeing them at GNC. I even tried ants without the potatoes. just a touch crunchy. nothing about which to write home to uncle jon.
water worms suck. I've always disliked seafood. unlike my hate-hate relationship with tomatoes which I managed to turn around, seafood and I can't even be just friends. I forgot the whole WATER worm part of its title. I was thinking along the lines of how to eat fried worms and instead I got nemo. at least its sauce was yummy. honeyish. you can see some of said sauce on my lip in the picture. and on the topic of that picture - dude, did you see how ruler straight the angle of my jaw looks in that picture?
water bugs were, by far, the most intimidating of the bugs. they looked the most temple of doom. they looked most like we'd disturbed the mummy and his scarabs were out to get us. good thing they had chicken or I'd have had to eat them. big fuckers. dude, don't say big fucker in front of jesus.
crickets... ah me. crickets were not bad. they were prepared with the same ant shoestring potatoes, but add some basil and some garlic. crunchy. kind of smokey meatey flavor. the garlic is what made the dish. it would have been just as good without the crickets - novelty notwithstanding.
after the appetizers, we ordered dinner. I got pad thai with tofu. the waitress asked me if egg was ok. I had just eaten crickets, ants, and water worms and she asks me if egg is ok! I called her on it. I told her it was pretty strange to ask me about egg after I'd just eaten the aforementioned creepy crawlies. she chuckled and explained. apparently, that restaurant is kind of like a lot of bisexual girls... make out with something they wouldn't normally put in their mouth, not for the sake of the flavor, but more for the novelty and the show. busted.
matt ordered frog's legs, which I'd never tried - so I had a bite. you know what they say about it tasting like chicken? as far as I can tell, they're right. but you're talking to a guy who thinks that soy hot dogs taste just like real hot dogs. know why? it's been so long since I've eaten chicken or hot dogs that I don't exactly remember. but it was as chickeny as I could figure out. the frog was also prepared like fried chicken, so I'm sure that helped its poultry cause. when the frog legs arrived, matt did the buster keaton roll dance with them. I sang
hello my baby.
hello my honey.
hello my rag-time gal (doll?)
the pad thai was uneventful by comparison. but not bad. I recommend typhoon if you're looking to thumb your nose at my parents and say that you've gone to the airport for the cuisine. or if you have a novel-lust. there's also have a restaurant upstairs called hump. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to resist partaking in a restaurant with a monicker like that. I wonder what the serve. insect eggs? tadpoles? cream of sum yung guy? who knows.
what I do know is that the one that coats is the only one I need.
PS - thanks chris