Throw another frog on the barbie

Watching repeats of Luke Nguyen’ Vietnam and Greater Mekong, in which he catches, cooks and eats everything from mice and bats to grubs, and even frogs caught in rice paddies, could never have prepared me for the frogs as food market experience in Cai Be on the Mekong Delta.  But first let’s go back a few weeks prior to event, to Don Konh one of the 4000 Islands in the southern Laos stretch of the Mekong.

As established, I knew that the further we travelled in South East Asia, the food was going to get scary.  Not having always been a vegetarian, and even now admitting to a penchant for grilled salmon with steamed spring vegetables and a beurre blanc sauce, accompanied by a glass of sauvignon blanc, I’m not too weird about meat, as long as I don’t have to eat it.  The Boy on the other hand is a bit of an enigma.  I present as evidence, his favourite T-shirt, ‘Meat is Murder:  Tasty Tasty Murder’.

On Don Konh there is lying in hammocks, walking and eating, all with the backdrop of river life, so I coerced the Boy from the verandah hammock we found ourselves tracing the path to the Khone Falls.  I can happily go from breakfast to dinner at full speed, without a thought for lunch, but this isn’t the case for him, especially when interesting local delicacies present.  After taking the obligatory photographs, water falls for him and yoga photos for me, we wandered back through the trinket sellers and restaurant shacks, stopping for a fresh green coconut.  A once a day must when they’re available.  Why don’t we have these in Australia?  We have coconuts palms?

Waiting for the young girl to lop the top off the coconuts, the Boy spots his quarry –skewers of frogs, ten to the stick, being barbecued over hot coals, unattended.  While I am oblivious and focus on my coconut, he loiters at the cooker and catches the frog lady’s attention.  A conversation followed regarding cost and the Laos up sell; Do you want roasted sweet potato with that?  He retreated to the coconut hut for contemplation.  Urged on by a assorted crowd of local men, all with interesting dental work, no doubt from many years of betel nut chewing, or maybe frog eating, the Boy made his final approach.

Some further discussion, skewer selection, exchange for money and he was ready to eat.  At this stage, I’ll point out that he fancies himself as a cross between a Buddhist monk and Andrew Zimmern, a TV Chef who hosts and eats his way through his own Weirdest Foods show.  This means all weird foods must be photographed and rated on a Likert Scale.  I prepared for the documenting but before I could even get the camera ready, he had the first one in his mouth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even hesitate.  Just straight in.”

"Yeah.  I didn’t want to think about it ... just do it.”  As he went for another one.

“What do they taste like?  Chicken?”

“Sort of like a fishy beef jerky.”  By now he is half way through the - What do you call a group of frogs? – army of frogs.  Although these weren’t marching anywhere except very quickly to his stomach.

“That’s why I chose these smaller ones, because they were cooked to well done.  I knew if I got the juicier ones, I’d have trouble.”

For the rest of the day I had to endure a barrage of frog in my throat jokes.  The frogs didn’t seem to affect his delicate constitution, and they’d stayed down, if not forgotten.

*

Forward to the Cai Be markets, and we stepped off our river boat onto the wharf in the centre of nose to tail produce.  Stepping around buckets and baskets a testament to the mantra ‘If it moves eat it’; where was the vegetable aisle?  I spotted green leaves and struck off with single vision.  The Boy as always wandered off in his desire to “engage with the locals”, and when I turned to find him, he was standing aghast at a quivering pile of shiny flesh.  Live frogs, skinned and still hopping, at least they would have been if they weren’t tied a leg each, in clutches of five or six.  I didn’t check.  That was it for me.  The fish paste factory in Battambang had really been a challenge, but this was too much.

“Why do they skin them alive?”

“They weigh less to buy.”

No photographs please.

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