Got Silk?

San Diego, California
Beondegi (Silkworms)

Silkworm pupae (beondegi) in the frying pan

Silkworm pupae (beondegi) in the frying pan

I was discussing insects as food online one day with friend and fellow foodie Dale, who asked if I had ever tried silkworms. Since the answer was “No” (I would have remembered that), he told me that he had enjoyed them at Min Sok Chon, a Korean restaurant in San Diego. On my next trip to San Diego I decided to follow his suggestion and have Korean food for lunch. Imagine my dismay when I pulled up to the restaurant to find it not only closed, but CLOSED. Since I foolishly assumed that all Korean restaurants must feature this taste treat, I walked into the Korea House next door and asked the hostess if they served silkworms. She seemed unfamiliar with the word, and when I started describing it as an insect or a worm, her eyes lit up in recognition. She drew a picture on a scrap of paper that looked like a fat maggot and asked if that’s what I was looking for; since I had never seen a silkworm, I nodded to confirm. I figured that even if I was wrong, I was looking at sampling some kind of worm-like creature. Sadly, she said that they didn’t serve them there, but suggested the Korean grocery across the street and told me to ask for beondegi. I was having some difficulty with the pronunciation, so she wrote the name in Korean on the piece of paper.

Enjoying beondegi and kimchi

I drove across the street to the First Korean Market and made a bee-line to the meat counter, showing the butcher the piece of paper. He walked me up one of the aisles to a stack of small cans that he identified as the silkworms I had been looking for. He must have seen the doubt in my eyes, since the sign below the stack of cans identified it as “fish food.” He assured me that this was the Holy Grail I sought, and that they were delicious heated up in a frying pan. At about $1.50 a can, I bought two; since the minimum purchase was $10 I also picked up some kimchi and mixed rice crackers with whole dried anchovies. My confusion was in no way lessened when I looked at the receipt that listed the silkworms as “bird feed.”

As I later found out, beondegi are not silkworms. Silkworms are the larvae stage of a moth in a form we normally refer to as a caterpillar. Before turning into a moth, the silkworm wraps itself into a silk cocoon and changes form again, this time as a pupa; this is what is eaten as beondegi. The practice comes from the collection of the silk – the cocoon is boiled in water, then unraveled and spooled. In factories where this was done, the cooked pupa provided a quick snack with no break required. I was a bit taken aback when I opened the can, as the pupa looked like puffy, flat cockroach abdomens, but I had an emotional investment in seeing this meal through to completion. I dumped them in a frying pan with some olive oil and stir-fried them until they darkened up. Served with the kimchi, they were surprisingly tasty – meaty, chewy and rich adding a nice texture to the meal. A word of caution – if you decide to stir fry them, keep in mind that they are packed in water, and even after draining them, when the water hits the oil they jump out of the pan like popcorn.

Eating beondegi au naturel - heat and eat

I brought the second can into the office, since no unusual food substance should go unshared with the unsuspecting public, and was told by several Korean co-workers that I had prepared them incorrectly. I quickly blamed the butcher’s instructions, but apparently it wasn’t too heinous a crime; a quick heating in the microwave (in a bowl, of course) was all that is required to enjoy them Korean-style. I tried the first spoonful and had to admit that the taste was vastly different than the pan fried variety. Since these critters stuff themselves stupid with leaves (normally from the mulberry tree) before hibernating for their moth debut, that is exactly what they taste like – a little meat sac filled with leaves. The taste isn’t disgusting, but there are only a certain amount of leathery wet leaves you can chew on before it gets old – folks who chew tobacco may have a different opinion. After letting whoever wanted to sample them try a spoonful, I decided that whether or not it’s traditional, the only way I’m eating these again is fried.

First Korean Market
4625 Convoy Street
San Diego, California 92111
GPS coordinates: 32°49’27.17″N 117° 9’15.95″W

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Of Uncles and Ants

Bucaramanga, Santander, Colombia
Hormigas Culonas (leaf-cutter ants)

One of the cigar and liquor stores in Bogotá selling hormigas

One of the cigar and liquor stores in Bogotá selling hormigas

Colombia, South America is truly an amazing country with a wide variety of hearty foods and delicacies. What has to rank at the top of the country’s most unusual cuisine are hormigas culonas. The Spanish name literally translates to “big-butt ants”, which as it turns out is a very accurate description. I had been to Colombia several times, but unfortunately not at the time of year when they are harvested, roasted and snacked on. On my last visit to Bogotá at the beginning of April, I was told by my wife Claudia’s uncle that the ants were in season and I stood a good chance of getting them while I was there. The reason these treats are seasonal is because only the winged females are harvested as they leave the nest to start their own colony, and event that takes place for a few weeks in the spring. The ants are harvested in the rural areas of Santander department (Colombian “departments” are the equivalent of American states), processed in larger cities such as Bucaramanga, then shipped and sold. I was anticipating having to visit a Colombian restaurant and ask if they have ants, expecting an argument about how clean their establishment is, but they are actually sold packaged in cigar and liquor stores.

Ants on a plane - Enjoy!

Ants on a plane - Enjoy!

My brother-in-law told me of a place near the Plaza de Toros Santamaria (Bogotá’s bullfighting ring) where he had seen them advertised, but it was questionable when we would be able to get over to that part of the city. While being driven back to our hotel (I prefer not to drive there, which gives me an opportunity to bury my face in my hands and scream) I saw a handwritten banner draped across the top of a cigarreria that read “HORMIGAS” in huge letters. I asked the driver to stop so that I could go ant shopping, and brought Claudia with me for translation purposes. In my best Spanish (which isn’t that great), I asked, “¿Tiene hormigas?” and was presented with the small, medium and large bag. I felt that if I really liked them, the small bag would be inadequate; consequently, having a large bag of nasty-tasting insects would not be a wise investment – I opted for the medium bag (at about $15 US). The clear plastic bag was stapled shut with no markings on it, and the contents looked like raisins or very dark shelled peanuts. I decided to wait until I returned to the U.S. to try them and so in my backpack they went.

Not very daring - this was probably my 60th ant

As my return flight got closer to LAX, I wondered how these would be treated at customs. They weren’t alive, and they certainly weren’t meat or plants, but not being sure, I decided to try some in the event that I would have to forfeit them. I opened the bag and smelled them first – they gave off a woodsy, meaty aroma. I studied them closely and noticed that the ones that were still in one piece were big, about an inch long. The wings had been removed but the little legs and head were still attached, and so I popped a single ant in my mouth. The taste was unlike anything I had imagined – it actually had the flavor and texture of bacon-flavored popcorn with just the right amount of salt. I’ve heard others say they tasted like Spanish peanuts, but I didn’t get that at all – just a light, crunchy, meaty taste.  I wondered if the bacony flavor was a result of being roasted in pork fat, but with no ingredients listed, it was anybody’s guess. I could easily see watching fútbol while enjoying a cold Aguila and a crispy bowl of hormigas (if that’s how I rolled).

I enjoyed the taste so much that I ate a handful of them on the plane; since the little damsels still have their legs, flossing is highly recommended after consuming them in quantity. I debated how to present them at Customs in Los Angeles, but was hurriedly waved through without so much as a question – in fact I started to speak and the agent simply repeated, “Good night!!” Since finding a new tasty snack treat without being able to share it with others is unthinkable, I offered them to others I worked with. You could say the feedback after the initial shock of eating ants was anticlimactic. It just goes to show that you shouldn’t be antsy about trying insects, no matter how much the thought of it bugs you.

Cigarreria Henry’s
Av 15 # 104-05
(Carrera 15 at Calle 104)
Bogotá, D.C., Cundinamarca, Colombia
GPS coordinates: 4°41’19.65″N 74° 2’47.88″W

VIDEO: Watch Val and friends eat hormigas culonas:



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Jiminy Crickets, That Stings

Santa Monica, California
Crickets and Scorpoins (Typhoon)

 

Scorpions dance across shrimp toast

Scorpions dance across shrimp toast

I have always had this dream of visiting Beijing for the sole purpose of getting a skewer of big, fat roasted scorpions. Scorpions come from the same class as spiders, but as members of the Arthropod crime family are also distantly related to lobsters, crabs, crayfish and shrimp. That having been said, it stands to reason that crunching into a size 10 scorpion should be akin to chewing on a small, thin-shelled lobster. Not having plane fare to China stuffed under the mattress, I opted to get them locally at Typhoon Restaurant in Santa Monica, California. I had heard that Typhoon had a special section of the menu featuring the targets of our flyswatters and anticipated six and eight-legged culinary delights. Typhoon is a trendy restaurant and bar decorated in wood, metal and glass with huge windows that wrap around the restaurant to provide a view of planes taking off and landing; in fact, you can even pull your private plane right up to the restaurant. Most of the menu items are Southeast Asian fusion, but the target of my gastronomic adventure was the insect menu, with scorpion being my top choice.

Scorpions from the bottom of a mescal bottle

Scorpions from the bottom of a mescal bottle

I ordered the scorpion, (which the menu informed was served “Singapore style” on shrimp toast) and “Taiwanese” crickets (stir-fried with chili peppers, garlic and served with potato strings). My only previous experience eating crickets was snacking on a single roasted cricket encased in a tiny block of chocolate, and I was excited about the prospect of being able to properly experience the taste. The wait staff was courteous, but the food seemed to take awhile to arrive. I envisioned one of the kitchen staff running around on the runway with an apron and a butterfly net trying to catch my meal. My mouth was watering with the thought of a nice platter of Emperor scorpions, poised with claws held high and having suffered the flames to defend their piece of shrimp toast turf. My anticipation turned to slight disappointment – I was given a plate with two pieces of bread about the size of the little rye toast you get in a bag of Gardetto’s, and fried into each was a tiny brown scorpion less than an inch and a half long. I was thinking of how to pry the tiny thing off the toast without severely dismembering it and met with success after some careful manipulation with the knife. They were mostly exoskeleton, and the closest thing I could compare the taste and texture to would be if you at the little fan tail on a fried shrimp. I can’t confirm whether the shrimp flavor came from the scorpions or the toast, but the tiny size of the scorpions didn’t provide much of an opportunity to find out. I’m guessing these are served as dares or for the gross-out factor so that diners can boast to their friends that they ate a scorpion, but it left me wanting something more substantial. If you want to try scorpion, this is as good as entry-level gets.

Pinocchio has lost a friend and his family

The crickets appeared to be in great supply. Apparently they had raided a pet shop or found a nest as my dinner plate was heavily populated with them. The crickets were mixed liberally with string potatoes (literally the width of a piece of string), diced chilis and chunks of raw garlic in a glorious mound of food. The only negative was that there was a little too much salt, and the garlic was overpowering. I actually picked out the little pieces of garlic and put them to the side – I can imagine how backwards it must have looked to bystanders with me picking food out of my bugs. Unlike the scorpions, the crickets were full of flavor – imagine the taste of a tiny salad shrimp wrapped in a walnut leaf and toasted and you get the idea of the taste and texture. I ate several by themselves first to get the taste, and then started mixing them with the potatoes. Overall, the crickets became a personal favorite; the scorpions, while tasty were somewhat of a tease, and I was left wanting more to get a better idea of the taste. I would have tried the chicken-stuffed water bugsthat were on the menu on-line, but unfortunately these were not on the menu at the restaurant (they may only served what they are besieged with at the moment).

Insects and arachnids aren’t for everybody but I think if you like the crustaceans you may enjoy them. If nothing else, you can look at it as revenge for all the picnics they may have ruined for you.

Typhoon
3221 Donald Douglas Loop South
Santa Monica, CA 90405-3213
GPS coordinates: 34° 0’59.05″N 118°26’54.39″W

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Choose Wisely, Grasshopper

Oaxaca, Mexico
Chapulines (grasshoppers) and other cuisine

A plate of tasty grasshoppers at Guelaguetza Restaurant

A plate of tasty grasshoppers at Guelaguetza Restaurant

As most people who know me will attest, the opportunity to try unusual cuisine is one I will never turn down. I had learned that a local restaurant offered cuisine typical of the Mexican city and state of Oaxaca, including chapulines (grasshoppers). Guelaguetza is a local chain of 5 restaurants in the Los Angeles area, and I had been trying repeatedly to eat at their restaurant on Palms Boulevard but got phone recordings stating that they were closed “due to an accident.” There was no elaboration on what the accident was, so I surmised that maybe it was a plague of locusts. Not being one who is deterred by minor setbacks like a restaurateur cutting off an appendage, I visited their 8th Street restaurant with Trippy Foods webmaster, Josh (who is almost always willing to try unusual food items.)

Just a forkfull of insects helps the Oaxacan go down

The restaurant itself is painted orange inside and out; it is furnished simply, with colorful tablecloths resembling Mexican blankets – a plain, simple place with focus on the food. Before being seated, I asked the waiter if they served chapulines at that location, which he confirmed. I didn’t order them immediately, as I wanted to peruse the menu and see what other Oaxacan delights they offered. The menu offered chapulines two ways – simply fried (with salt, garlic and lime) and Chapulines a la Mexicana (cooked with tomato, onions, chiles and Oaxacan string cheese). I asked which preparation was typical of how the grasshoppers are eaten in Oaxaca, and was told the fried chapulines were more common, so we ordered them that way. I also ordered the tamal Oaxaqueño de mole con pollo, while Josh left his entree choice up to the waiter.

The waiter brought the chapulines to the table first. I imagined the look of horror that a diner might register if they didn’t know what “chapulines” were after ordering them, faced with a plate topped with a hot, crispy mound of grasshoppers. There is no disguising this dish; it’s not like substituting the Komodo dragon on the menu with turkey and duping unsuspecting patrons – these are USDA Grade A insects swarming on the plate. Unfettered by sauces and vegetables, you couldn’t even mistake them for crickets. We tried a couple of forkfuls of them as-is; there were several lime wedges on the plate to further obscure the taste if necessary, but the grasshoppers were fried to perfect crispness with just the right amount of lime, salt and garlic – only the lime added extra zing to the dish, giving them a citrus tang. They were smoky, crispy and delicious, without the nondescript leafy taste you get with some voracious leaf-chewing insects (see the posting on silkworm pupae); hot, fresh tortillas were provided which allowed me to make a crunchy insect taco – I missed the cool freshness tomato and lettuce would have added, but enjoyed them nonetheless.

Chapulines and chicharron taco al Guelaguetza

Chapulines and chicharron taco al Guelaguetza

When the entrees arrived, they had both been prepared with black mole, with the dark color coming from the use of chocolate. Oaxacan cuisine uses of a variety of moles, in a wide range of colors specific to their ingredients. The tortilla chips brought out at the beginning of the meal were topped with a sweet red mole and crumbly Oaxacan cheese (quesillo) that obsoleted the bowl of red salsa that was served on the side. The tamal was a square of what appeared to be finely ground white cornmeal masa stuffed with chicken and topped with the black mole; it was still encased in the banana leaf with the top removed. The mole added a sweetness to the tamal that coupled with the fact that the dish was made without chiles made it taste like a desert tamal. Josh’s meal was a delightful mess – enchiladas with quesillo and string cheese, topped with black mole and a couple of pieces of what looked like skirt steak. It seemed like a contradiction eating Mexican food that was sweeter than it was spicy, but it was delicious. I had ordered coffee with my meal, and immediately the smell let me know that it was Oaxacan coffee made from locally-grown beans and flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar. I wanted to try the rose petal ice cream for dessert, but they only had a few of the advertised flavors, including tuna. I’m sure the thought of tuna flavored ice cream sounds par for a Tokyo ice cream parlor, but before you picture Charlie being ground up in an ice cream churn, tuna is the Spanish word for the prickly pear fruit of cactus.

The interior of Mexico has other unusual dishes that also feature insects, but when you can’t get to Mexico at least you can find its cuisine at the end of a short drive. I’m still trying to find an insect taste treat native to the Unites States, but so far most other countries have us beat. Looks like I’m going to have to get out the butterfly net and some boxes of Jell-O…

Guelaguetza Restaurant
3337 ½ W. 8th Street
Los Angeles CA 90005
GPS coordinates: 34° 3’28.14″N 118°18’4.86″W

GALLERY: See more images of Val eating chapulines and Oaxacan food at Guelaguetza Restaurant in Los Angeles

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