Oh man, I just cooked some pasta for Fuzzy and I, and in amongst the steaming penne were little, creamy white larvae. I don't consider myself squeamish. Hell, when I was a teenager, I skinned and defleshed a red fox my neighbor had shot because I wanted the skeleton (of course I wore rubber gloves). Growing up in North Carolina, I remember the cereal regularly being buggy, and I'll eat food that's been dropped pretty much anywhere except directly in the litterbox. But the sight of those juicy little critters was just the push I needed to start making my own pasta.
Just be glad my camera wasn't handy.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Coming to you live from West by god virginia
No comments:
Post a Comment