Pickled Cricket

Is it? No, it can't be. Oh yes, my friends, 'tis pickled cricket. I was under the impression that when one resorts to eating insects, he or she must be in a state of hopeless destitution—like a Gary Paulson character who is forced to fry up meal worm in a makeshift pan constructed of moose dung and spittle, and wash it down with urine. But when a person goes to, say, the Vietnamese market on Federal Avenue in Denver to procure themselves a 15 oz. (brine included) can of pickled cricket for $2.95, it is no longer a case of survival, but affinity.

I bought Jing Kung for novelty's sake, but I won't eat it because its saturated fat content would be 30% of my daily value, and I prefer my fat to come from mint Milanos.