Brood X

It’s the year of the cicada.  Brood X. The one that comes around only every 17 years and covers the bulk of the eastern US.  It’s a huge event, recognized, anticipated and celebrated over centuries.  Following 17 years of living underground and sipping nutrients from the roots of plants, the insects burrow up to the surface en masse, climb a few feet above ground, mature to adults, and focus on the business of reproduction.  They occur in numbers that overwhelm their predators and assure successful breeding.  In areas of high concentrations, the males’ singing can reach 90 decibels or more, equivalent to a chainsaw or jackhammer and drowning out normal conversation. After mating, the female will lay a few hundred eggs which hatch, fall from trees, and burrow into the ground to begin another 17 year cycle. Forget the eco safari!  There is a rare and significant environmental event happening right here.

Indiana is considered the epicenter of Brood X but for whatever reason our county is a dead zone.  We heard a Purdue owned woodland was rich with activity and had reason to travel to Lafayette so decided to check it out.  As we approached the site, even within a mile, all was quiet, but suddenly we were in them, and the drone of millions of male cicadas took center stage. 

Big cicada eruptions are a smorgasbord for a host of birds and mammals.  Perhaps no other single event feeds so many predators over such a large geographic area.  And they don’t get just a single good meal, but are “satiated” throughout the weeks-long extravaganza.

Every day, about a third of the earth’s human population eats insects as part of their daily diet.  For many, it is their chief or only source of protein, which in insects can be several times higher than in traditional meats, such as chicken.  As the hype around Brood X was growing, I heard and read several reports from seasoned chefs touting the culinary appeal of cicadas, suggesting recipes that were sure to please.  We had to try them.

I cannot recall, over nearly seven decades, ever intentionally eating a mature insect.  I assumed the legs might be a bit bristly and the wings tough, so I pulled them off my first candidate and popped the body in my mouth.  Tender, juicy, not a lot of flavor, but nothing at all offensive.  I had a couple more and prepared one for Lee, who agreed with my flavor and texture valuation but was haunted by guilt for ending a creature’s 17 year wait to procreate.  She was much more absorbed with the ecological wonder at hand.  

It was well past noon and we had not yet had lunch so I foraged on.  With experience I learned their legs were totally tender and a non issue but the wings were indeed tough and cellophane-like and no amount of chewing would change that.  It became a simple matter, then, to hold onto the wings and bite off the rest.  I noticed, over the course of eating 20 or so, that a portion of them had a stronger and more appealing flavor, hard to describe.  I had read they most closely resemble shellfish, and this might be true but I’ve never eaten a raw crawdad or uncooked shrimp, so could not judge.  I also noticed I was no longer hungry, so shifted my efforts to collecting some for later.

My old college buddy, John, lives in the Cincinnati area and in a recent phone conversation mentioned that Brood X was on fine display on his property.  I texted him, mentioned what I was up to, and he immediately went outside to partake in the grand buffet.  His conclusions were similar to mine, with the added observation that females were without question more flavorful.  I had not been so attentive.

Back home, I put the bag of about 30 cicadas in the freezer and after a time, following the guidance of a chef heard on NPR, tossed their wingless bodies into boiling saltwater for a minute or so, then into a skillet of melted butter for a quick sauté, and seasoned with salt and pepper.  They were quite delectable.

When insects are fed a kilogram of forage they will yield 12 times more protein than beef fed the same amount.  Insects are also naturally rich in essential micronutrients, like iron and zinc.  They can be raised on food scraps and animal manure, require far less land and water than domestic livestock, and emit far fewer greenhouse gases.  The list of edible insects numbers 1900 and growing.  The world is poised with the reality of feeding billions more people in the near future.  You know where I’m going here. 

Entomophagy is the practice of eating insects, and it was common in Ancient Greece and Rome.  John the Baptist found all the nourishment he needed in locusts and honey.  But at some point during the spread of agriculture through Europe the focus shifted to domesticated livestock and in the process we developed a yuck factor towards eating insects, and for no good reason.  How is it we’re so ready to eat a lobster or shrimp but not a cicada? Considering the environmental threats facing the planet, the historic record, the nutritional benefits inherent to insects, and the dietary routines of some two billion people, it may be time for the rest of us to get in the game.

Enjoy Brood X while they’re here.  And don’t forget the napkins.