Carol Perkins: Frog Legs

Previous Column: Fat Free

By Carol Perkins

When the Friday lunch ladies go to a restaurant that serves frog legs, two of the girls leap out of their seats!

"Don't you like them?" one friend asked when I turned up my nose.

"I bet you've never tried them," I assured her.

Every time my brother brought in a sack of frogs and prepared them (cut off their legs; I never looked), we had frog legs for supper.

"All I remember," I said, "was the way they jumped in the skillet like they were being tortured. I considered eating one of them to be torture, too."

My mother cooked whatever my brother killed because he was proud of his kill and wanted to be rewarded for his effort. That meant we ate squirrels, rabbits, frogs, and deer.

I didn't eat any of them.

When someone says, "You don't know what you're missing," I assure them I don't care.

One time in his pursuit of rabbits, he caught a baby one, brought it home, and we named him Hoppy. Hoppy made such a nuisance of himself, hiding under chairs and the couch, that we let him go. I hope my brother didn't bring him home months later for Mama to cook.

The "modern" frog legs look nothing like those found around my grandfather's pond. The ones in the restaurants belong to mammoth frogs that must live in Texas.

Our frogs were smaller, and when my mother cooked them, it took several dozen to fill a skillet.

Although I wanted nothing to do with them, when my friends (boys who were friends) went frog-gigging around local ponds, we girls tagged along, and most of us were jittery about the unknown lurking around the edges. Snakes were not afraid to slither onto dry land to see what we were doing. We carried the flashlight while the boys glared and listened. The guys rejoiced when they had full sacks and took them home to their mamas.

I don't eat seafood (except plain fish) because it looks nasty. My friend savors oysters as if they were diamonds. I can't look at her when she eats them. I feel the same about shrimp. Something about those tails is gross. Don't even talk to me about crab meat or crab legs. Even lobster is a no-go for me.

Before gout struck, Guy sought nothing but seafood places on our beach trips. I ordered chicken.

I've never been adventurous with food, and I won't "just take a bite, you might like it" now.

---

Share your thoughts with Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com, or with CM readers using our Comment Form.

This story was posted on 2026-06-05 16:19:36.
Email comments or corrections.