The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



vermes delicatiore sunt in cibo: Cossos vocant.*' 

 (The Romans have reached such a degree of lux- 

 ury at the table that they esteem as delicious tit-bits 

 the great worm from the oak-tree known as Cos- 

 sus.) 



I do not know with what sauce the Cossus was 

 eaten in the days of the Caesars, the Apicius of the 

 period having left us no information on this point. 

 Ortolans are roasted on a spit; it would be profan- 

 ing them to add the relish of complicated prepara- 

 tion. Let us proceed in the same manner with the 

 Cossus, these Ortolans of entomology. Spitted in 

 rows, they are exposed on the grill to the heat of 

 live embers. A pinch of salt, the necessary condi- 

 ment of our dish, is the only addition made to it. 

 The roast grows golden, softly sizzling, weeps a 

 few oily tears which catch fire on contact with the 

 coals and burn with a white flame. It is done! 

 Let us serve it hot. 



Encouraged by my example, my family bravely 

 attack their roast. The schoolmaster hesitates, 

 the dupe of his imagination, which sees the great 

 grubs of a little while ago crawling across his 

 plate. He has taken for himself the smaller speci- 

 mens, as the recollection of these disturbs him less. 

 Less subject to imaginary dislikes, the blind man 

 ruminates and savours them with every sign of 

 satisfaction. 



The testimony is unanimous. The roast is juicy, 

 tender, and extremely tasty. One recognises in it 

 a certain flavour of burnt almonds which is en- 

 hanced by a vague aroma of vanilla. In short, 

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