Photos: 1) A tray of scorpions, cicadas, and silk worms; 2) Elizabeth eating a scorpion; 3) a skewer of cicadas; 4) Justin eating silk worms; 5) Elizabeth trying to decide just why she let her nephew talk her into this.
My twenty-four year old nephew, Justin, arrived in Beijing last week, ready for adventure. I introduced him all the usual sights where he read each plaque and soaked up the local environment. Little did I know that soon he would have the opportunity to teach me a thing or two about Chinese culture. It was on our walk through Hou Hai, one of the neighborhoods where the old-style, walled Chinese houses, locally known as hutongs, have been preserved, that I received a lesson on local dining.
That afternoon, as we strolled this charming area of town looking for a place to have lunch, Justin spotted a small shop selling deep fried bugs. “Oh, I gotta try that!” he exclaimed with glee. For just over two US dollars, he purchased a skewer of roasted scorpions, stinger removed. He ate the bunch, leaving one on the stick, and said, “Here, this is for you!” What could I say? I popped it in my mouth. Heavily salted, it mostly tasted like popcorn.
We walked a bit further and Justin paused again, “I want to try some of the other bugs.” We returned to the same shop and purchased one skewer of unidentified critters that to me resembled large cockroaches and another of silk worms. Again, Justin gobbled down four of the five small beasts on each stick and left one for me at the end. Initially, I declined, but then he threw down the gauntlet, “It’s a bonding experience for us.” I ate the bugs. This time they did not taste like popcorn. Justin thought they were okay; I did not. But never mind, I’d done it.
Insect cuisine is not new to China. I’ve been told that people here have been consuming bugs throughout the country’s long history, and during difficult periods, they have acted as a source of protein. There are also medicinal properties associated with some bugs as well as superstitions. In places such as Yunnan Province, bugs are ubiquitous on local menus. In Beijing, however, they seem to be more of a novelty item, and I see Chinese as well as foreigners photographing each other as they enjoy this unusual snack.
Later, our driver, Stephen, told me the bug that had seemed familiar was not a cockroach but rather a cicada. “Like the pet you gave us last winter?!” I asked in horror. He explained that though there was only one English word, “cicada,” for what I had just consumed and for our pet, whom my daughter had lovingly named Boxton, in Chinese there were two. He said that the bug we had as a pet was called a “ hundred day animal” in Chinese reflecting its short life span. Apparently, its life is so brief that it doesn’t make it to Chinese menus. Phew! I may have eaten a bug, but at least it wasn’t our house pet.
Enjoy other dining stories at Wanderfood.