HOW TO EAT A FROG.

I am learning not to turn up my nose against other people’s choices, values, religion, philosophies and culinary tastes. Except Trump. I mean, who scorns Denmark because they won’t sell him Greenland? That is a first. Oh yes, I forgot. There is another lot. Immigration security officials outside Africa pretending their choice of who to search is completely random. Ya right. If that be the case all black people outside Africa should play lottery in airports. There would be loads of black Jackpot millionaires. 

Other than that I am willing to live and let live. When my Chinese friend therefore invited me for a hotpot experience in GUANZHOU I was more than willing to give it a shot. I expected anything and was ready to push my boundaries to their limits except on two fronts: snakes and dogs. I was therefore a bit disappointed when he started ordering dull things like lamb, beef, fish, and Pork. I expected some frightening sea creatures. Squids, prawns, crabs, octopus, seahorse and their other relatives.

My African friend in company exacerbated my disappointment by objecting to pork- one of my favorite meats. He declared in no uncertain terms that if pork was put into the bubbling broth, that would end his dinner experience. I looked at him daggers knowing I had seen him using his fingers to mix raw minced beef with spices. I had watched blood dribbling and oozing from in between his fingers. As he mixed, squeezed and pressed, I saw him drooling ready to dig in. I remember staring at him in revulsion. Raw beef? I don’t care how liberally you spice it, am just not eating that. 

Here in China, in between dexterous fishing of morsels from the hotpot and dishing them out to us, our host explained Chinese table manners. Families eat together. They use their chop sticks to eat and feed each other. So we ate with and used our chopsticks to stir the food and serve each other. “Some people think it’s unhygienic but it’s our culture”, our host says. “Mhh..” I stutter. Is this guy a mind reader. Hygiene is exactly the subject of my silent interior monologue. I bite my lips. Am not going to say a word.

Then i get a brain wave. I could spice this up. I have never seen someone eat a frog. And I hear this is a delicacy in China. “Do you eat frogs?” I ask my Chinese host. “Why? But of course. Delicious.”. “Why don’t you eat some now? I would like to see you eat some”. My host waves at some waiter passing by. He says something in Chinese. He settles back contentedly. “They are coming, will you have some?”, “Hell no.”. This is what I say in my heart. Audibly I say “Not today. Perhaps next time”. “Come on. you said you will try anything at least once”. He insists. “True, I did say that but I did not say I will try everything today.”

My African friend stood up. “ I am not going to sit and watch this.” He declared. “If you start boiling frogs in my presence, as sure as hell I am going to throw up.”. “Don’t you want to see it happen?” I asked pleadingly. “No way.” And with that he matched out. I was determined to witness the phenomena. When the frog arrived I stared unbelievingly. It was neither a live frog nor a whole one. Instead the pieces looked quite tempting. Perhaps I would have been happy to enjoy had I not been told it was frog meat. Except for one webbed foot, you could not tell it was frog meat. I helped my friend dip the delicately and delicious looking pieces into the hotpot. He enjoyed them with relish. The more you travel the more you realize you are not the centre of the world.