crickets

Mostly I hear the word “crickets” in the context of telling a joke, and then hearing, you know, crickets. As in, silence.

This week I made a quick trip back east for a conference, and, to take a cue from Jim Gaffigan, after we ate, we set up a place to eat, and then we went and got something to eat.

And by something, I mean crickets.

Well, not just crickets. We also had tongue tacos. And the most delicious guacamole I’ve ever tasted.

pretty good food. except for that weird one on the right

But the crickets stole the show. On account of them being disgusting.

those are all arms and legs in there. and mole

John and I figured, we’d order lots of stuff, like scallops, quesadillas, and other yummy stuff, and in the middle of it, we’d try the crickets.

Because when a swanky Mexican restaurant puts Cricket Tacos on the menu, I mean, you have to order them. Don’t you?

Yes, yes you do. So we did.

ready to kill any crickets that might still be moving.

All I kept thinking was “Grab my arm.  The other arm. My other arm.” That’s how it works in my head.

not as awesome as i’d hoped

Let’s have a post mortem for the crickets.

Attractive presentation. Terrible taste. Gross texture. Not for eating. Nice novelty factor. Can’t believe people really eat crickets.

So, A-