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The last bug was unexpectedly juicy. “Pop!”, it burst in my mouth, as the innards of the “tantarria” exploded with every bite. What is a tantarria, you ask? I’m glad I looked it up after I ate it, and not before: a giant “chinche”, or bedbug. This was the “pièce de résistance” to the most fascinating meal Noah and I have ever eaten in Mexico or anywhere: a meal of insects.
“Insects are the future of food,” said the Chef of Tikua Sur-Este, the fascinating restaurant we were lucky to visit during our recent stay in Querétaro. Though creative insect-based dishes occupy an entire menu page of this forward-looking restaurant, the staff weren’t expecting the same guests to order so many of them. “Adventurous eaters”, they called us. That dinner sure was adventurous! It was also eye-opening, as we explored questions like:
Are insects good for you?
Are insects eco-friendly and really “the future”?
Why do we have such an aversion to eating them?
On a personal note, can I eat them with my shellfish allergy?
Come along on a culinary ride as I tell you about the insects Noah and I ate and what we learned!
Course #1: Grasshoppers (“chapulines”)
I once read an interview with a Mexican cook who said, “Lo que corre, vuela, se arrastra o nada, se prepara.” In other words, anything that runs, flies, slithers, or swims is to be prepared. Grasshoppers, I’ve learned, aren’t only great jumpers, but they can also fly. As an excellent source of protein, they’ve been an important component of Mexican cooking since pre-Hispanic times.
When I was 15, my family lived in the state of Oaxaca, a mecca of insect-based diets. As one of the state’s main culinary staples, I recall seeing an abundance of grasshoppers for sale at the market. I was too cowardly to eat them back then, but I was fascinated by their diverse flavors and textures: fried, boiled, with garlic, chili powder, salted, or simply plain.
When we first arrived in Guanajuato this past January, Noah nudged me to finally put my fears aside and bought us a bag of chapulines from a street vendor. These were fried in garlic and drenched in lime juice and hot sauce. My fears had been a mental allergy and nothing else. They were delicious!
I was feeling bold during our dinner last weekend, so I agreed with Noah to only order off the insect menu, starting with the grasshoppers. Like in the Oaxaca markets, the chef also offered many varieties: we could eat them roasted, fried, salted, spicy, plain, in tacos, in guacamole, with cheese, in drinks, etc. To kick off our meal, we settled on a drink and appetizer.
I chose the most interesting-sounding drink, an “Alebrije” (named after these colorful Mexican sculptures) made tableside. Along with mezcal (a distilled alcoholic beverage coming from the same plant as tequila), the mixologist poured in a grasshopper syrup and juice from purple tunas (prickly pears), which come from the cactus plant. The salt rim wasn’t just salt; it also contained crumbled grasshoppers. And of course, the “alebrije” wouldn’t be complete without some roasted grasshoppers as garnish.
While I couldn’t taste the grasshopper syrup, the garnish bugs added an interesting crunch. Grasshoppers aren’t particularly flavorful, but rather, they absorb the taste of whatever spice they’re cooked in. The ones atop my drink were salted, nicely balancing the sweetness of the prickly pear.
A few sips into our drinks, our first appetizer arrived: goat cheese balls covered in grasshoppers atop crunchy black corn tortillas, with avocado and tomato garnish. The grasshoppers created a nice crunchy contrast to the softness of the cheese. I wouldn’t say they were particularly flavorful but did provide an added touch of salt.
The chapulines seemed exotic to me, but in reality, Mexicans have been eating grasshoppers and other bugs out of necessity for centuries. In recent years, they’ve been revered as “alta cocina” (haute cuisine), launched into the international culinary spotlight by famous chefs like Enrique Olvera (from the Netflix Chef’s Table and Final Table shows). Through recipes such as “Doreado zarandeado con chapulines”, grasshoppers have increasingly become a fascinating delicacy that honors Mexican heritage.
Traditionally, grasshoppers have been harvested by hand in states like Oaxaca during the summer and fall hatching seasons. It’s easiest to catch them before dawn when the cooler temperatures sedate the grasshoppers. Some larger harvesting operations use nets, but smaller family collectors swoop a wicker or plastic basket over the fields where grasshoppers feed on greens.
Some companies are taking notice of the growing demand - and need - for insect-based diets and efficient harvesting methods. One that caught my attention is Valala Farms, a Madagascar-based company that is on a mission to provide food security in a region where 90% of inhabitants live below the international poverty line and where only 10% of the natural habitat for typical food sources (like lemurs) remains. They harvest the grasshoppers in indoor incubation rooms, producing 100kgs per week (about 220 lbs) which yields 65 kgs (143 lbs) of protein powder.
Beyond protein, grasshoppers also offer high amounts of fiber, zinc, magnesium, and other vitamins. They’re not just good for you, but they’re also good for the environment. Their farming results in extremely low amounts of greenhouse gas emissions, very low water usage, and creates zero waste during the farming cycle. With so many health and ecological benefits, I can’t help but wonder: why aren’t we eating insects more in the West?
Course #2: Ants and Ant Larvae (“chicatanas” and “escamoles”)
I consider myself an ant connoisseur. After all, they lived with me for years while growing up in Mexican tropical climates. I’ve begrudgingly shared my home with tiny black ants, big fat black ones, and even the giant red ones that sting. But I’d never had the pleasure of meeting - or eating - a “chicatana”, a type of flying ant from the state of (you guessed it) Oaxaca. I was intrigued by this menu item, so, as a second course, we ordered “tacos de chicatana”.
Eating ants inside my tacos was harder for me to swallow (literally) than eating grasshoppers. They had a nice nutty taste and crunchy consistency. It wasn’t the flavor I had a hard time with, but the fact that I was eating flying ants. This mental hurdle is what makes it difficult for more people in Western cultures to embrace insects in our diets.
From the time we’re little, we learn that insects bite, sting, annoy, and can kill us. Even when growing up in Mexico, the birthplace of many revered insect-based dishes, I viewed insects as scary (I’ll never forget my dad’s shoe banging as he tried to kill flying cockroaches or scorpions that popped in to say hello).
Our food choices are based on the associations we make with food: a hot dog is to baseball (fun!) as an ant is to dirt (gross!). In spite of the stark health differences between the two (hot dogs are linked to cardiovascular disease while ants are rich in heart-healthy antioxidants), most people in Western cultures will choose the hot dog. Why? Because eating food isn’t always rational; it’s an experience connected to emotions, memories, and customs.
Fortunately, by the time I finished the chicatana tacos, my brain was primed and I was ready for an even more adventurous dish. We asked for a recommendation by the chef, who pointed us to an intriguing menu item: a chile poblano stuffed with goat cheese, drizzled with a dark chili sauce, and sprinkled with ant eggs, or “escamoles”.
Escamoles are produced by the Liometopum apiculatum, a velvety tree ant. Interestingly, the odor from their nests has earned the ant a unique nickname: “la hormiga pedorra” or the farty ant. This smell clearly didn’t deter my ancestors: escamoles were once considered a delicacy by the Aztecs and even thought to be the daily breakfast (at least during harvest season) of Montezuma, the emperor.
Today, escamoles are still considered a luxury food with a high price tag of up to USD $100 for a kilogram or 2.2 lbs. They’re difficult to obtain: they grow under the ground of the maguey plant and are protected by thousands of ants who readily sting anyone who nears their eggs.
What did we think of the escamoles? With a caviar-like delicate texture and a buttery flavor, they were truly delightful! I was sad to learn, however, that escamoles aren’t the future of food, at least not right now. This “Mexican caviar” is in danger of extinction due to overexploitation and poor farming practices. It’s an interesting contrast: on the one hand, it’s hard to convince people to consume insects as a way to curb climate change; on the other hand, more regulation is needed to stop the farming of certain types.
Course #3: Tantarrias (giant bedbugs)
By the third course, we were surprisingly full and decided against dessert since none had insects. However, I was antsy (ha!) to try one more thing. A few staff members had mentioned “tantarrias”, a giant type of “chinche” (or bedbug). I was glad to learn that they don’t live in our beds, but rather, on mesquite trees in Northwestern Mexico and the American Southwest. Tantarrias feed off from the sap of this tree, making the bugs’ inner juices honey-like and sweet. Intrigued, I asked if we could try a single insect. The chef was happy to acquiesce to his adventurous eaters.
The tantarria looked crunchy and flavorful. At this point, my courage was strong, so I bit down without hesitation. “Pop!” went the bug, juices bursting into my mouth. “Umm, I wasn’t expecting that,” I told Noah. Though interesting, this was the only bug that didn’t hold back and wanted me to know exactly what I was eating. This wasn’t a salty wafer or buttery caviar. No, this was an insect. A juicy, plump, crumbly insect. I chewed quickly, mentally patting my own back for trying it, while I took a sip of my drink to wash it down.
Are bugs the future of my diet?
While I appreciate the benefits of eating insects for our health and our planet, I’ll be eating them with caution. A few bites into our meal, I began to notice a familiar tingle in the back of my throat. It was slight so I ignored it. That is, until my sister-in-law, Anna, with whom I was texting the play-by-play of our meal, cautioned me to watch out for my shellfish allergy.
As it turns out, insects and shellfish are related! It makes sense - dust mites and crustaceans share the allergen “chitin”, the substance responsible for crunchy shells. My allergic reaction never turned into anything beyond an itch, probably because we ate a variety of insects, not just crunchy grasshoppers. Grasshoppers aren’t the worst offender, I learned. If you have a shellfish allergy, stay away from cicadas!
Should YOU eat bugs?
I would recommend caution with the crunchy kind if, like me, you’re allergic to shellfish. Otherwise, I encourage you to give bugs a try. Perhaps reframing what you’re eating might help: don’t think of them as the creepy crawlies you’ve avoided or squirmed at throughout your life. Instead, think of them as healthy plant-eaters that are chockful of nutrients and might be the answer to our food needs in the long term.
If reframing doesn’t work, think about this: you’re already eating insects! Did you know that each teaspoon of honey contains the lifetime regurgitation of 50 bees? Did you also know that the FDA allows limited fragments of insects in the food we buy at the grocery store, such as peanut butter or frozen vegetables? You didn’t think you were such an adventurous eater already, did you?
Have I convinced you to at least give bugs a try once? Have you had them before? If so, what did you have and what did you think? Let me know in the comments!
Karla is a Mexican/American travel and fiction writer. She’s also a life and career coach for women. Karla is one-half of Aventura Road, a married couple of nomads who live in an RV and travel full-time. Karla writes, while Noah photographs.
Follow Karla on Instagram @karlaexploradora.
Follow Karla & Noah on Instagram @aventuraroad.
For sure!
It is fantastic that Noah gets you out of your comfort zone to try new dishes! (I’m sure you do the same for him in other areas) but what I enjoy reading is your new experiences and willingness to explore the world and its vast variety of cultures & foods. You have opened my eyes to this exceptional culinary art!