On the Menu

     My husband used to be a picky eater. Fifteen years after we were married he confessed to me that for the first ten years he swallowed peas whole when I served them so that he wouldn’t have to taste them. Then one day he took the bold step and chewed them. He discovered that he liked peas after all. I remember the time when he wouldn't finish using a jar of raspberry jam because he found a bristle in it. However, he has now become markedly more adventurous than I am. His profession takes him all over the globe and he eats what is put before him because it would be terribly rude to do otherwise. Among other delicacies he has eaten duck's egg embryo, chicken feet and intestines, crocodile, tapir, dog, turtle, octopus, grasshoppers and the occasional unidentifiable mass.

     He called me from Sulawesi a few weeks ago to tell me about the dish he was served that he had never eaten before: bat...bat baked with vegetables and served casually with rice. The head and wings were included. I asked him what it tasted like; he said it tasted like meat. At least he didn’t say chicken.

     With Halloween approaching, it is handy to know that if a vampire should sneak up from behind and try to bite me—I can threaten to turn him into a casserole.