This morning, I boiled a frog.
Not on purpose, of course. To understand this, you will need some background on our living conditions: First, we don’t have hot running water, so for bathing we boil water in an electric kettle to warm up our bath. Second, all our water is stored in a large vat outside which currently lacks a cover. Frogs get into the vat, and then into our plumbing. Daniel is occasionally surprised by a frog plopping out of the bathtub faucet and into his bath water, and more then one frog has been caught in- and survived- the spin cycle of the washer.
Anyways, apparently this unfortunate frog was included in the water I filled the kettle with this morning. I did hear one loud croak, but thought it was coming from the washer, and inspected it without finding the frog. When I was pouring the kettle into the bath, two stiff frog legs popped out of- and stuck in- the spout. I admit it took me 30 shocked seconds or so to realize what had happened. I stared at those little toes and could for the life of me figure out where they had come from. Then I couldn’t decide whether to start laughing hysterically or freak out and scream. As I was by myself, I settled for the less dramatic course of taking a few deep breaths and emptying the water and (fortunately) intact frog out the back door.
So did that qualify as French cooking?
well, to be french cooking, you're supposed to eat it! I liked the story of them getting into your bathtub, although I don't know how I would actually feel if one landed on me when I was naked and defenseless.
ReplyDeleteThat is an awesome and well-written story! :)
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