Outdoor Cooking

Cooking out of doors in 1940 — bean holes, spits, clambakes and burgoo, from three food writers who thought a campfire was the best joke going.

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Swamp Scramble

I CAN COOKED FROGS' LEGS 4 TABLESPOONS BUTTER 6 EGGS, BEATEN SLIGHTLY BUTTERED TOAST Thoroughly mix contents of can with eggs. Melt butter in pan and stir and scramble over low heat. Serve on buttered toast. Grasshoppers: Another indigenous food is grasshoppers, which not only Indians, but some other "people of the South Wind" we know, relish when roasted. And why not? They're clean feeders and have been considered fine food in China for thousands of years. We have suggested them as good eating in other books and naturally were surprised when in reviewing our Wine Cook Book, Lewis Gannett, of the New York Herald Tribune, wrote: "The Browns say that in our own West, roasted grasshoppers are eaten with relish; but I have Western friends who would ask them sharply, where and by whom?" Now that the depression has put crow frankly and openly on the Wild West's bill-of-fare, and Erskine Caldwell has written of Georgia crackers who sub-subsist on grubs and mud pies, we can only ask as sharply: "How long before all of us, Easterners, Southerners, and Westerners alike, will be reduced to roasting the cricket on the hearth?" And why not? We call two great gastronomes as culinary character witnesses. J. Cancel, author of The Most Complete and Concise Glossary of Modern Cooking Ever Compiled and Published, has this to say of the Grasshopper, or Locust, revered by French hommes de bouche as the "sauterelle": "Jean-Baptiste when on the desert lived on grasshoppers before the coming of the Messiah. "The disgust that people have for the grasshopper is a false prejudice. They live only upon leaves, plants and fresh herbs. The grasshopper is cleaner in its eating than the hog, that everybody likes. Let us hope that the new countries in Africa will bring us some new recipes." One more question. Do our Western brethren look down on grasshoppers, or are they secretly jealous of a creature that chews tobacco quite as expertly as any embryo Buffalo Bill?

Cancel gives two excellent recipes for grasshoppers which make it hard for us to wait for the summer season to come: Salted-Sauterelles Salées: "Cook in pickled brine highly seasoned. Refresh in cold water, pick same as shrimp," and Roasted-Sauterelles Roties: "Put locusts on a red hot metal plate, cook, and keep stirring all the time. When cold, take off head, wings and tail, eat same as shrimp. Roasted locusts, pounded fine, make excellent mush and cake. Salted locusts can be conserved in a jar, covered with mutton grease."

Our second witness, Mr. Wong Chin Foo, who really knows his grasshoppers, goes on in the same charming vein. THE LOCUST ON TOAST "In the gastronomical calendar, the Chinese have their seasonable fashions, as well as their white cousins on this side of the great waters. Among the seasonable and fashionable foods of Northern China, perhaps the most welcomed of all is the locust. In the season of supply of that dainty insect, everybody, rich and poor, has an equal show for a delicious feed. Although, sometimes, the locusts are a very disastrous visitation to the farmer's crops, he has his vengeance upon them, and a chance to get his grain back with compound interest. Either through vengeance or fashion, the Chinese have always made it almost a religious duty to eat locusts in the fall of the year. Indeed, so fond of them are the people of all classes, that they are sold, roasted, by vendors during the season at as high as one cash each. The children, especially, are fond of them, and go to the corner street stands to buy roasted locusts, just as the American children buy roasted peanuts, and seem to enjoy them even more. "To have locusts on toast in Northern China, is almost as fashionable as quail on toast in America. This is how they are prepared: -Take a bag full of fattened locusts, almost red with age, dump them in a hot fat, cover them quickly; when they are dead, throw in a handful or more of salt. Roast them by constantly stirring-just as the Italians roast their chestnuts-until they become well done and crisp. Generally, the insects lose their wings, legs and sometimes their heads; if not, those uneatable portions are carefully picked off. They are then served with toasted corn bread, or millet rice. In taste they somewhat resemble salt herrings, but are much more delicate. Locust sausages, which are also fashionable, are made in the following manner: Select only the female locusts, which are full of eggs, remove their wings, heads, tails and legs, chop them up with onions, garlic, pepper, salt-and other spices if convenient. Make into small balls of about an ounce each, and dip these in boiling hot grease, until they are browned, like codfish balls; then serve them with cayenne pepper sauce. Corn bread and millet rice are eaten with them. "There are also several species of worms, which are eaten in the middle provinces of China. One of them, called the Chuen Chung, is considered very fine, and is quite fashionable among the upper classes. They are served out to guests in the evenings, as sponge or pound cakes would be by Americans. There worms are found in old and decayed trees, usually the cedar, the alum and like harmless woods. They grow to enormous size, and are usually cooked in the same manner as locusts. When served, they present a hideous and sickening appearance. In taste they resemble old Limburger cheese and rotten dried bologna. The writer once had a whole meal of them when they were just out of the oven, in a darkened room. He thought they were old sausages from the Sandwich Islands, until he chewed the head of one of those gigantic worms. He has not been back to that hotel since."

Wong Chin Foo Gnu: The tongue of the gnu is considered something very special by those who've been lucky enough to get it. It comes out of the kettle bright red.

Goldfish: Preferred raw and swallowed whole, fresh from the bowl-ask any college boy if this isn't his favorite recipe?

Ground Hog, Hedgehog, or Woodchuck: See under Wild Meat. Grubs: The Congo is just the place for scientific snackers who go for odd bugs, midges, grubs and the juicy chrysalis. The moth grub is best of the lot.

Hell-divers: Marinate in well-peppered wine vinegar, to get rid of the strong fishy taste and soften the tough fibre of this over-active water hen. Then lard it well with bacon to make up for the fat that's lacking. Some native Americans have built up big local reputations on their ability to do a hell-diver to a turn. (See Aquatic Birds under Wild Meat.) Hippopotamus: This portly porker is tremendously popular in Africa, since one of it goes a long ways toward feeding the whole tribe. Its lard is used in cooking and, like its little brother that squeals, every component part goes into the pot, right down to the grunt.

Hoppers: Hoppers start out in life as cheese mites, then they metamorphose, generally inside a Stilton cheese, into acrobats as lively as Mexican jumping beans. Our British relatives relish them. All of which goes to prove that snacking is a lusty sport.

Horse: Good meat, but too sweet. It's cooked the same as beef and is said to be simply swell when fattened. But we have seen too many sorry nags sold in ornate French horse butcheries, even with their iron shoes still on. Most horsemeat is supplied to France and England by our mid- West packers, since Americans have gone on record as not liking to eat any animal they can pet, including goat. Indeed, to popularize horsemeat abroad, the French butchers have to doll it up with paper bouquets of roses, and hang a great gilded horse's head over the door.

Iguana: Dragged start-eyed to market with a noose around the neck and a pointed stick locking its savage jaws, the poor iguana, sometimes as long as an alligator, becomes the center of attraction at many a gala barbecue all over South America. Eaters of the toothsome reptile say that this flower and fruit eating lizard compares to frogs' legs in the same way a pheasant does to tame capon.

The meat of all furred and feathered game has a special tang, but the leathered-hided reptiles are even more gamy in taste. In spite of this, some Pan-American socialites high-hat the humble iguana because it's usually seen in the company of poor natives whose eyes brighten and lips moisten at the very appetizing sight of it.

Kangaroo: Australians dote on kangaroo tail soup and prefer kangaroo tenderloin to saddle of venison, which it resembles in taste.

Lion: A Frenchman made $25,000 a year selling canned lion meat to timid customers who wanted to grow as brave as lions.

Locusts: See Grasshoppers.

Long Pig: See Cannibals.

Monkey: Connoisseurs tell us that smoked black monkey is best. But all fruit-eating monks are tempting. They taste "midway between hare and venison" and though they resemble the cannibal's "long pig" in baby size, that doesn't keep any homme de bouche of Brazil or Africa from enjoying them down to the liver. Mud Hen: See Aquatic Birds under Wild Meat.

Muskrat: A cousin of ours in Detroit belongs to a Canadian Duck Marsh Club which throws a muskrat dinner every year, and pays its taxes selling muskrats to French Canadians who know their game. Muskrat is prepared like beaver or badger, by first marinating and then sautéing with peppery condiments. It's also the Maryland substitute for ten dollar terrapin and you'll find more about it under Wild Meat. Mystic Manna: We are reminded by Philip Kaplan, the Cleveland artist, that in practicing the Black Art, Aleister Crowley used to pass out Solomon Mystic Wafers to his followers, made out of goat's blood and flour with a dash of aphrodisiac. Also Yogi borschj, Krishna strudel and Kundalina steaks. Parrot: Brazilians feast on both the eggs and flesh of parrots, and parrot pie appears on the very ritziest of Austral- , and parrot pie appears on the very ritziest of Australian snack bars. The splurgiest way to prepare any parrot that you may fall heir to, is to carefully remove the skin with all feathers intact, as pheasants are fixed for serving in state. Then roast the bird as you would any partridge or game of that size, put the feather dress over the cooked fowl and you have as spectacular a platter as the Roman gourmets' roast peacock brought to table with gilded beak and tail spread at full sail.

Paws: Bear paw fritters delight Siberians, Finns, Canadians and all far North snackers. and all far North snackers.

Pole Cat: Skunk, to us. Under Swell Sandwiches we confess how one of us snacked on it in the dark of midnight, mistaking it for Chicken á la King, at the very least.

Porcupine: It's against the law in some States to kill a porcupine unless you are lost in the woods. For, excepting its quills, the porcupine is the most defenseless of wild aniwould soon be extinct, not even being able to waddle fast enough to get away from its enemies. A blow on the head from a stick or a well-aimed stone brings it down.

So this recipe is only given for those lost in the forest, without any other food. You have to have a jack knife and matches, and it's also good to lug along a little salt in your pocket. Or you might remember to save out your last slice of bacon before you get lost.

Having black-jacked your porcupine, you pull off his quills, that is, any which have not already stuck into you- , that is, any which have not already stuck into youhe can't throw them, as we used to believe when we were children, but merely leaves them behind as souvenirs in any The object that comes too close to them, say a dog's nose. quills removed, you next skin the creature, and then you have a baby pig. Clean it, rub with salt and bacon fatlet's hope you have a little pepper, too-and roast it over the coals. The skin, scaled, scraped and parboiled, then cut into squares and toasted, is like juicy cracklin'; and if you have some dough in your pocket, too, you can eat your kill with cracklin' bread.

You'll find further suggestions under Wild Meat. 'Possum: Skin, parboil, stick carcass full of sassafras twigs, and roast. Nothing can beat a fat young 'possum , and the best of it is, you can get six-bits fur th' fur afterward. We used to hunt them in Arkansas for both food and fur, and once when an experienced hill-billy cooked one for us, Hunter's Style, we distinctly heard Brillat- Savarin's ghost hanting around, smacking its jawbones. Prairie Dog: Some Indian tribes consider this little ground cousin of the squirrel a great delicacy. You marinate him and cook like beaver. Rats: Chinese dried rats fetch as high a price as smoked turkey and have their occidental fans as well. The celebrated chef, Soyer, once cooked a rat for a group of exacting epicure cronies and didn't tell them what it was until after they'd pursed their lips and kissed their finger tips to its perfection. Which proves the old saying about difference in taste that farmer brought up when he kissed his cow. Rocky Mountain Sheep and Goats: See under Come and Get It!

Shoe Leather: When sailors run out of rations on voyages they make a soup of their shoes or chew the leather raw. At such times, a pair of high sea boots becomes a becomes a banquet.

Skunk: See under Swell Sandwiches.

Sounds and Tongues: Staid Bostonese gorge on cod's sounds and tongues, those indefinable delicacies found inside the fish, which most fishermen throw as far away as they can. Such intimate parts of fish were, however, the base of the world's first sauce, invented by gourmandising Romans who also flavored their snacks with asafetida, which has an unsavory name, though it's only very old and decrepit parsley juice. Snakes: Even the most poisonous snakes are as harmless to eat as true mushrooms. Boil anything from a mess of grass snakes, garters or a 17-rattler diamond back, exactly as you would eels, or roast in the ashes American Indian fashion. You'll give a whoop of joy when you find they taste exactly like spring chicken.

For the Modern Kitchen

Beneath the framing text this is a straightforward dish: cooked frogs' legs folded into soft scrambled eggs and piled on toast. A few of its assumptions no longer hold at the grocery store.

A Little History

The Browns -- Cora, Rose and Bob -- wrote a long shelf of chatty, omnivorous food books in the 1930s and 1940s, and the internal reference to their Wine Cook Book and to Lewis Gannett's review in the New York Herald Tribune places this among them. The novelty framing aside, frogs' legs were not exotic American food in that period: Louisiana and the upper Mississippi supported a commercial frog fishery, and canned cooked legs appear to have been a real pantry good, which is why a recipe can open by simply saying "1 can." Combining them with scrambled eggs on toast follows a well-established Anglo-American habit of stretching a small quantity of prized protein - smoked salmon, brains, oysters, crab - through soft eggs, a treatment often traced to the same nineteenth-century breakfast and supper cookery that gave us creamed dishes on toast. The dish's frankly comic name belongs to the book's persona rather than to any regional tradition.

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