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The Citizen, 1991-05-08, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, MAY 8, 1991. PAGE 5. Eating with Bruno could bug you If you get a dinner invitation from Bruno Comby, phone him up right away and tell him you can't make it. Tell him your gerbil died, tell him your hair fell out, tell him you're having a stomach transplant that evening -- tell him anything, but don't show up at his place at suppertime. Unless you’re a gastronomic adventurer of the first water. Why? Well, Bruno Comby is author of a new book called Delicieux Insectes. There now. You don't have to be Yves Fortier to figure out what the books about, do you? Delicious Insects we'd call it in English. Bruno Comby writes about the pleasures of eating bugs. But before we croon "Yuk!" in two- part harmony, let's think about it for a moment. Number one: We're obviously doing something wrong in the food department right now, because millions of people on the planet are going hungry. Number two: vegetarians say that part of the problem is our addiction to meal. They have some telling statistics. Such as the fact that the acre of land it takes to feed one calf could be used to raise The International Scene A fabulous fishing prize BY RAYMOND CANON Having worked with the fishing industry for the past 15 years, I never cease to be amazed at the things that occur but I have to admit that one of the most fascinating has to be the Fish Kincardine Salmon Derby which is taking place in that comunity from May 17-26. There are fishing derbies and then there are fishing derbies but what makes this one stand out from my point of view are the top prizes which consist of a fishing trip to the Soviet Union. I must admit that I have no idea where the best salmon fishing in this area is to be found and I have the suspicion that, if some people think they do, they are keeping it to themselves. However, if there are any of my readers who are interested in those prizes, I can tell you a bit about the Soviet Union which, I hope, will make you look forward to the trip. First of all, whether you catch one fish there or a hundred, you can rest assured that you will be seeing at first hand history in the making. When I was there, the cold war was pretty chilly if not downright glacial at limes but, with the advent of such things as perestroika (restructuring) and glasnost (openness), the Soviet government, economy and society is in a constant and rapid state of flux. I wish I could tell you with any degree of certainty what the country will be like a year from now but I can't and will make no effort to try. All I can say is that it will be different and, even in the short lime that you are there, you will see that difference in the making. During my entire trip to the Soviet Union, I never fell for one minute that the people and the government were one and the same thing. A question that I was asked over and over again was what our country's viewpoint was on the cold war. When I explained it as best I could, there was very 5,000 pounds of potatoes. Ah, but that's several light years from silting down to a plateful of creepy crawlics, isn't it? It's one thing to munch tofu burgers with a divot of alfalfa sprouts on the side; it's something else to force down a forkful of fricasseed cicada wings or french-fried June bugs. But again, let's take a deep breath and think about it. Other cultures prize insects as rare taste treats. In Papua-New Guinea, certain species of ants are the piece de resistance at important feasts. In South Africa, moth caterpillars are considered a delicacy. Other cultures around the world lick their lips at the thought of locusts, flies, termites, and crickets. "The idea of eating insects seems a little startling in a civilization where they arc not eaten" writes Comby. That's putting it mildly, Bruno. Where I come from, the idea of eating insects is enough to get you tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a Vapona No Pest strip. It's blasphemous but it's not unheard of. There’s a bottle of Mexican liqueur in my cupboard that has a larva floating around in the bottom of it. Right beside that bottle is a jar of jellied ants somebody gave me for my birthday last year. Mind you, both of them are unopened. Then there's the protein argument. little criticism, rather a genuine desire to determine what was being said in other countries. The two leading newspapers in the country were and still are Pravda (truth) and Isvestia (News). There is, however, an old Russian saying that in the Truth there is no news and in the News there is no truth. That says as much as anything about attitudes. Along with this open mindedness about us goes an immense curiosity. I parked my car in front of the hotel in Smolensk and lifted my hood to check the oil. In no time at all I had a small crowd of people, including the traffic cop, who were fascinated by the foreign car (it was a Renault) and from that to life in Canada, in fact, just about everything. We had a nice question and answer period. I did a bit of public relations by asking if any of the children in my "audience” were studying English. One little boy admitted he was so I had him say something in English. To the delight of everybody, I complimented him on his excellent accent and they all went away happy. Out of this comes a bit of advice for the winner of the fish derby, or anybody else for that matter, who is going to the Soviet Union. Don't tell them the price of anything in Canada in terms of dollars; the exchange rate is so artificial that they will not understand the value. Tell them instead how long it took you to work to get the Why fight recycling? It caught my attention last week that the Bluewater Recycling Association won an award by the Recycling Council of Ontario for "most outstanding municipality". Many of the towns, villages and municipalities around Blyth have been recycling for a few years. But I fail to understand why the Village of Blyth is not doing its part to recycle. Some people say it's because there is Chicken is 23 percent protein. Locusts and grasshoppers contain a whopping 75 percent. Which brings up another good reason for turning our knives and forks on insects: biologists acknowledge that insects are our biggest competitors for food and fiber - why not cut out the middleman and go head to ... antennae? Consider: large swarms of locusts regularly strip crops in the Third World, bringing famine and death. Normally we call that a plague. Why not call it dinner? A large swarm containing 400 billion locusts, would render down to nearly 10,000 tons of solid protein. Besides, according to an Oregon University entomologist, we North Americans are already eating bugs — about two pounds worth each, annually. The bugs are in our processed food, ground up into invisibly small chunks in everything from strawberry jam to frozen broccoli. Why fight it? Heck, my front porch light attracts enough bugs to keep me in protein for a month or two. Then of course there's always pretty good pickin's on the car grille. Sure! All it takes is an attitude change! Pass those candied bumblebees over here. What's the matter? You've heard of Humbugs haven't you? money. I informed the crowd that it took me three months salary to pay for the car and I didn't have to wait for it. I picked it up in Paris the day I arrived. That they understood. If you fish at the places mentioned in the brochure, you will be amazed at the immensity of the country. The Soviet Union is, in fact, the only country bigger than Canada and it takes the Trans-Siberian passenger train about nine days to go from Moscow to the Pacific Coast. Now that's big! One thing the trip should do for you is make you happier than ever that you arc a Canadian citizen. I certainly do not envy the lot of the average Russian today nor did I when I was there. Shortages and the concomitant lineups are a fact of life as is political uncertainty. However, the Russians are certainly hospitable people and those who win the derby will discover this for themselves, I am sure. Quite by coincidence during t"he derby I will be down in Atlantic Canada visiting the fishing industry in preparation for a selling trip to Europe in June. If I weren't, I might be templed to get my spies out looking for good salmon grounds and try to win the prize myself. The winners are certainly in for the experience of a lifetime and I compliment Kincardine and the organizers for coming up with such a wonderful idea. no market for the materials. But the Bluewater Recycling Association bragged at the award ceremony that "we don’t have enough material for sale. We could double the amount we have now, and that still wouldn't satisfy our buyers." With 37 municipalities already involved it would be highly recommended for the Village of Blyth to join in soon. Jane Gardner Blyth. Letter from the editor These magicians poorly paid BY KEITH ROULSTON The rainy weather has a lol of farmers and gardeners pulling their hair out these days. It's not that a few days delay will ruin the whole crop season ahead, it's that there's an itch to gel planting each spring that people who work with the soil have to scratch. What is the pull of farming and gardening that captures so many people. Is there something in our genetic makeup that remembers our ancient ancestors scraping the soil to plant the first seeds? Or is it magic of putting a few liny seeds in the soil and watching sun and soil and water turn it into a bountiful crop. I've been drawn by the same magic over the years. Every spring my family jokes about my addiction that makes me rush out to plant the seeds even though, invariably, I end up being too busy to properly weed the garden and much of the crop gets lost in the weeds. I've scaled down my garden to two small beds but J still have that farmers' affliction that always makes you optimistic come spring no matter what has happened in the past. This spring my schedule has been so hectic that I haven't had lime for the urge to hit the garden but I encountered that same kind of feeling the other night. This time it came when I opened an incubator and watched 50 young quail chicks scampering around in their first day of life. I'd put some liny, spotted, but very ordinary eggs in 17 days earlier and now they had turned into all these lively little beings. You sort of feel like the magician who waves a wand over an empty hat and pulls out a live rabbit or dove except you know there wasn't any trick involved. Maybe that's why there is never a shortage of people wanting to be farmers: it's one of the few ways of life where you feel like a magician on a regular basis. Farmers are among the few people in the world who actually make things from nothing - well, at least oversee the work of a higher authority. A factory worker can take a piece of metal and turn it into a piece of a car; a carpenter can tum plain wood into a house or a beautiful piece of furniture but they're already working from some material. The farmer starts with a male and female animal and creates more animals. He/she plants a bushel of seeds, and with the soil, sun and waler provided by nature, provides enoueh food to ferd hie family. Today's modern farmer creates enough food to feed many families. Isn’t it odd then, that farming, the one profession that creates something virtually from nothing, is so poorly rewardedfor its efforts. I sat al a family reunion the other day with someone who worked for Bell Canada, a young business manager who had just been appointed manager of his company's Vancouver office, a Canada Post employee and a teacher and realized that all of them were earning, not only a good deal more than 1, but a good deal more than most of the people I know who arc creating the food that keep these people alive. I don't care how skilled they arc at their jobs they wouldn't be able to earn their pay more than a few days if some farmer didn't keep crcal.ng food. Somewhere, we've got things mixed up in this country.