Frog Legs

We did it. We ate frog legs.

I realize the much of the rest of the world eats frog legs and has for a long time. They are considered a delicacy in some parts of the world.

I was always too afraid. Frogs creep me the heck out.

But when my girls and I saw frog legs cooked and eaten on the Food Network I told them I thought I would do it if given the opportunity.

I really never thought I would have an opportunity.

When Jeremy and I went to dinner Friday night to celebrate our 17th Anniversary and frog legs were on the table (I’m pun intended) I knew I had to step up.

I had to keep my word to my kids.

I told our waiter Jeff, that I was scared of them. He looked surprised and told me it would be okay, that they taste like chicken, that everyone who eats them loves them. I asked how to eat them, if it was similar to eating a chicken wing. Jeff said yes.

We ordered them.

I was trusting the chef, that he knew how to cook frog legs. Our waiter brought them to us about fifteen minutes later. They were plated beautifully and still. hooked. together.

I stared at these legs long and hard. There they were-hooked together, laying on the plate covered in sauce.

They looked JUST LIKE LEGS.

I started to think about things. I thought of the frog that Jeremy just removed from our driveway last week and the frog that Kaitlyn tried to catch while we camped last week. I thought of a frog’s rubbery skin, the bounce in their step. Their faces. I thought about how much any kind of frog creeps me out.

Then I felt nauseous and Jeremy prayed thanking God for an opportunity to celebrate us and to try a new food and then he dug in. He told me to do the same.

If I didn’t do it now, I wouldn’t do it at all. I left the frog legs on the plate they were served on and pulled some of the meat off. . I couldn’t quite make the leap (I’m so sorry….) to put them on my tiny appetizer plate. I examined it (I’m not sure what I was looking for) and ate it.

It tasted mildly like chicken and it was chewy.

By this time Jeremy was all but done eating his set of legs.

I took a chunk of meat off the other leg, popped it in my mouth and swallowed.

I got some frog leg meat stuck in my teeth. I couldn’t get it out. Believe me, I tried.

I sat through a five course, three hour long meal with my husband of 17 years, overlooking a beautiful hills-of-Pennsylvania-scene from an outdoor deck table in the perfect temperature celebrating us, with frog leg meat stuck in my teeth.

I texted my girls, told them what we had eaten (they couldn’t believe it) and decided that I don’t need to do it again.


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