They say you can catch more flies with honey, but I’d argue you could catch even more with a Venus flytrap. Then again, that might lead to a Little Shop of Horrors situation. And if that’s the case, I’d strongly advise against singing show tunes to an alien carnivorous plant—unless, of course, you enjoy being plant food with a Broadway soundtrack.
Speaking of questionable dietary choices, who in their right mind would want to put honey and flies on their buttermilk biscuits anyway? Unless, of course, you’re Michigan J. Frog. “Hello, my baby! Hello, my honey! Hello, my ragtime gal!” I feel like if I eat too many biscuits with fly honey, it most definitely will be ragtime at my house—and not in a musical way.
In other parts of the world, eating insects is perfectly normal. Take France, for example. They have escargot, which is just a fancy French way of saying snails. I think I’ll stick with French fries, thanks. Meanwhile, a small town in Brazil enjoys dipping queen ants in chocolate, and my sister just got back from Mexico, where she was served chapulines—fried grasshoppers. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with a simple meal instead of mealworms. Followed by an after-dinner grasshopper mocktail—sans the grasshoppers.
Not that I haven’t accidentally eaten bugs before. One summer, I was riding my bike and went straight through a cloud of gnats. It was like nature’s version of drive-thru dining. I suddenly understood what it’s like to be a whale filtering krill—except instead of growing a majestic blubber layer, I just choked and coughed for five straight minutes.
But I get it—bugs are packed with protein. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before some trendy brunch spot starts serving “organic honey-drizzled locust toast with a side of ethically sourced caterpillar compote.” How about a salad with dragonfly dressing? That one just sounds like something a wizard eats. And knowing hipster food trends, it’ll probably cost $25.
Next thing you know, there’ll be a new cof-flea chain called Starbugs. “Yeah, I’ll have a venti Beetlejuice—but maybe just once. Say it three times, and a wisecracking dead guy might show up and make you die from laughter… literally.” And for dessert? Ladybug ladyfingers.
Then again, we might already be eating more bugs than we realize. Ever had red velvet cake? That deep red color? Yeah, thank a tiny bug called the cochineal. Suddenly, a chocolate-covered queen ant doesn’t seem so bad—though I still prefer my sweets to be insect-free.
So, while I respect the cultures that enjoy insects as a delicacy, I think I’ll keep my biscuits bug-free. And if I do end up eating a grasshopper, someone make sure I don’t start hopping around, croaking “Hello, my baby!”—top hat and all.
