We ate at a local restaurant a couple of weeks ago and had frog legs. They’re one of my favorites and I hadn’t had them for several years, so I was excited.
There used to be a place in New Berlin that had fantastic frog legs on the menu, but it’s been closed for years. I envisioned yokes of legs, deep fried and stacked high on the plate with a pile of french fries.
Well, that wasn’t the case. They were delicious, but the legs were served with onions, peppers and other items in a sauce.
I know, like the porcupine, some of you are turning up your noses. They taste like a cross between a very mild fish and chicken and resemble chicken wings.
Frog legs bring back a lot of memories.
During my pre-teen years, I would go to some of the local swamps and ponds to catch frogs. Back then, I used a long, bamboo pole with a short string and a small piece of red flannel or felt. All I had to do was sneak up through the grass and dangle the red cloth in front of the frog, and they’d grab it. Once that tongue reached out to catch the imitation insect, they were mine. I’d put them into a burlap sack and take them home. Before long, they were in a frying pan.
Did you know that freshly caught frog legs kick when they’re cooking? Being a cold-water animal, rigor mortis does not set in quickly like it does in warm-blooded animals. So their muscles contract and twitch while they’re cooking.
By the time I was a teenager, I could hunt them with a .22 caliber rifle. I returned to those same farm ponds and woodland swamps to get a nice mess at least once or twice a year. It was a delicacy that is loved by many around the world, including me.