The princess and the frog
I've had my Landy for donkeys years, we are almost inseparable except of course when it's broken down, we've bonded time and time again, paid witness to survivalist cuisine and countless indigenous bush recipes. She hides behind a camo paint job and I behind a touch of foundation with a smattering of missed mascara. There's no need for words between us, instinct and love bind us and all that bo##$##&. So thinking back to when I bought her eleven and a half months ago, when most of the world was shiny and still in parts shrink wrapped , a very special trip springs to mind...
I was in my Land Rover travelling down des Champs-élysées, a hidden little known gem in a remote uncharted part of Europe. My trail was eclipsed on both sides with angular cliffs with regular quaint rectangular openings that might almost have been rustic in appearance and formidably tall. The sun would set early tonight and I'd have to work hard to find what I was looking for..
I'd come to this backwater to explore some of the local indigenous cuisine as it was said to be flavoursome in its quaintness and definitely one for my book.
So when the ,erm valve blew in my Epirb distress beacon I knew we were in trouble ,as good as stranded in fact for automatically linked to the RAC mobile unit (as it was) the penalties for false alarms was a high one . So nothing could be done but the switching off of Berthas grand unstoppable motor and finding something to break (thus legitimising my rescue).
As with all highly skilled adventurers the training clicks in Stop, Think, Breathe... I knew from past experiences that I could be stuck here for sometime, if not even several minutes before rescue so food was going to be an issue. Looking up at the sun I could see that though three hours of the local lunchtime had past there was still an hour and a half to go, this was doable though I'd have to think quickly and I would of course be unable to marinade, but I'd faced worse challenges.
Just as I was sitting there the answer hopped into my lap, quite literally in the form of an edible frog. The trick is to only take the legs so the frog itself remains unharmed ( a bit like shark fin soup) sustainability being important, Throw them on the coals for 20mins and job done, tastes a bit like chicken.
Just as I'd finished the last leg and had waved a cheerful goodbye to the frogs, the now revered RAC unit raced into view and I was rescued with no time for dessert or chocolate liquors! goes with the territory I suppose.
It's not quite the same these days but I find veggie sausages marinated in a dog hair and yak milk yogurt, 1/4tsp baking sofa and 2 qrts of frog stock, 180degrees for 20 mins is the closest I've got... and it's close enough. It makes me smile to remember that special and rustic meal long ago and it really gives one hope that If things do indeed get dire and desperate...
A damsel in distress should never overlook the cheerful rich nobility of the humble local frog.
Siobhan x
• no frogs ( or sharks) were harmed In the making of this adventure.
• All characters are fictional and any resemblance to living fruitcakes are merely coincidental.
