It’s not easy being green – How to cook frogs’ legs
Why does it make me feel so bad to eat this…
When I eat this…
…all the time. Maybe it’s because she’s such a beeyatch.
And now, for a little story. When I still worked for “the man,” there was a big reorg, and suddenly I was responsible for supporting three team members from Quebec, who had never worked much with others outside of French Canada. Luckily, they were fantastic people, because my limited French might not have gone over very well if they had been jerks. When I met Alain, he confessed that the first time he had visited Toronto (I think when he told me the story it might have been his second time there) a bunch of teenagers had yelled, “FROG!,” at him. He didn’t know what it meant. I think I told him (embarrassed for my linguicity, if that’s a thing) that the French are called frogs because they ate frogs’ legs, and the English thought that was disgusting. I just Googled this now, though, and learned that there are many reasons the French might be called frogs, including:
- The original French flag had 3 black frogs on it, which later became the fleur de lis. This was ages and ages ago
- Because Elizabeth I used it as a term of endearment for boyfriends, and one of these was her representative in France
- Because Paris was surrounded by swamp, so the French themselves used it to make fun of anyone who didn’t live in the city
- Because during WWII the French were able to hide like frogs from the Germans, who had difficulty finding them
As a point of interest, while I was reading about this, it also came up that a “Dutch Oven,” is a derogatory term too – not an oven, is it, just a lesser little roasting pan. Damn those Brits were creative in their bigotry.
Anyway, all of this comes down to one thing. Let’s pretend I didn’t Google the history of the term frog, go back to my original explanation, and bring it back to this.
My husband and I can now very proudly call ourselves frogs. Vive la grenouille!
Here’s a dangler for you so you can get the full effect.
I like to think that the little how ya doin between his legs was coincidence. This isn’t that kind of blog.
Of course I had to use a French recipe to cook up les hoppy jambes. I found one here. Simple, but drenched in butter. Of course, French women don’t get fat, so eat as many as you want. Chase it with wine so you forget you’re eating frog legs.
French Frogs’ Legs
- 12 pair frog legs, thawed and snipped to separate
- 1 1/2C milk
- Salt and pepper
- 1C flour
- 16Tbsp clarified butter
- 2 cloves garlic
- 1Tbsp lemon juice
- Parsley garnish (I always skip garnishes. Like I’m going to buy parsley just for that, but to each his own)
Directions: Prepare legs by snipping apart and thawing, or by chasing some hoppy suckers down and showing them who’s boss. Soak them in milk in the fridge for about 30 minutes. Dry them with paper towel, salt and pepper them, then dredge them in flour. Heat a few tablespoons of the butter, and over high heat, cook the first batch of legs (I think I did this about 2 minutes/side).
Dump leftover butter, and melt more for a new batch. Keep going. I have to admit that I didn’t dump any butter, just added olive oil after the first batch to keep the butter from burning and didn’t add more butter, which I hope reduced the unhealthy fats. This left the latter batches nice and brown. C’est tout!
Is it wrong that as I was preparing and eating these I was jealous of their leg muscles? Yes, that’s right, I was jealous of a frog’s quad and calf definition. Squats for me tomorrow, I guess. Anyway, the recipe was great. Simple, quick, and tasty – if you can get past the thought of what you’re eating, they’re meatier than chicken wings, while the flavour is a cross between that and dense fish. You could dip them in nearly anything. Serve them as an appy before your next menage a trois for sure (KIDDING! This is NOT that kind of blog!). Rating: 2 Yums