The Ergates; the Cossus 



any complicated dressing would be a profana- 

 tion. Let us do the same with the Cossi, 

 those Ortolans of entomology. Stuck in a 

 row on a skewer, they are grilled over red- 

 hot charcoal. A pinch of salt, the necessary 

 condiment of our meats, is the only extran- 

 eous relish. The roast turns a golden 

 brown, shrivels slowly and sheds a few oily 

 tears, which take fire on touching the coal 

 and burn with a fine white flame. The dish 

 is ready. Let us serve it hot. 



Encouraged by my example, my fam- 

 ily bravely attack their skewerfuls. The 

 schoolmaster hesitates, a victim to his fancy, 

 which pictures the fat worms of a moment 

 ago crawling about his plate. He picks out 

 the smallest ones, as less likely to provoke 

 unpleasant reminiscences. The blind man is 

 not so much at the mercy of his imagination, 

 gives his undivided attention to the dish be- 

 fore him and eats with every sign of satis- 

 faction. 



All are of one opinion. The joint is juicy, 

 tender, and very savoury. The taste re- 

 minds one a little of burnt almonds flavoured 

 with the merest suggestion of vanilla. In 

 short, the dish of worms is pronounced to be 

 most agreeable, one might even say first-rate. 

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