Nicole Clark
Frank Klemm wolfs down a super worm to the delight—and shock—of visitors to the Insectarium's eighth annual bug cooking demonstration.

Fried larva and grub relish,
it's dinnertime at the Insectarium

BY NICOLE CLARK
Staff Writer

Frank Klemm was the sole volunteer.

Like a trophy he held the super worm, coated in Cajun-spiced breadcrumbs, dangled it above his open mouth for a second, dropped it in and chewed. Then he stuck his tongue out in a proud display of the pasty remains.

"Scaly," he said. "Eats good."

While the others gaped at the table teeming with such culinary delights as hot dogs smeared in grub relish and cheesesteaks, fried larva-topped, Klemm sneakily beelined it to the bathroom to wash down the body parts lodged in his throat.

The Insectarium, 8046 Frankford Ave., last week held its eighth annual bug cooking demonstration to the glee of grown men like Klemm, a tourist from Maryland, as well as area children.

Nicole Clark Jeffrey Havens, 15, a volunteer at the Insectarium, demonstrates the fine art of scorpion-scarfing.

This year's theme, in keeping with the Eagles playoff game against the St. Louis Rams, featured Ramburgers, with lightly sautéed crickets and grasshoppers replacing your mother's tired green peppers and onions, and imported St. Louis leg of ram covered in blister beetle glaze.

The main appetizer? McNabbetts, super worms fried—alive—in olive oil to a golden crunch, to honor Donavan McNabb.

"It's just like making fried chicken," education supervisor Jeanette A'psis said.

"Drop your super worm into the egg mixture, swirl it to coat—well, it's actually swirling itself. Then drop it into a pan of really hot oil. Cook on each side for about 30 seconds each.

"But the body will explode. Stand back."

Sure, just like fried chicken.

Each year, the Insectarium celebrates entomophagy, the eating of insects. A'psis, who's been with the bug museum for four years, has invented all of its latest recipes.

"Most Americans have no connection with insects other than a blanket dislike," she said. "But we all eat insects all the time." According to A'psis, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich contains parts from about 54 insects; 24 critter-bits reside in every Hershey's Kiss.

"You eat bread?" she asked one skeptical girl. "Bread's made of wheat, wheat's a plant. What's on plants? Insects."

Nicole Clark Cintia Camacho, 4, keeps a safe distance from the St. Louis leg of ram and its blister beetle glaze.

Our revulsion to munching on creepy-crawlies apparently began in ancient times when poisonous butterflies were eaten. "This is the stuff of nightmares," A'psis said. "It really makes you realize the boundaries of your cultural conditioning."

But humans are also just too lazy to whip up an entire batch of squish kabobs: tomatoes, onions, green peppers and slightly sautéed American cockroaches. "A buffalo you can kill once and feed lots of people with it. Insects take too much work."

But if you're so inclined, you should mail-order your insects from a reputable company. Never snack on your garden pests or you risk ingesting pesticide, advice A'psis strongly emphasizes to the Insectarium's young visitors. The museum orders its bugs from Fluker's Farms in Louisiana.

If you're dining on mealworms, once they arrive seal them in a container with an apple to purge their intestinal tracts. When they're shipped, mealworms eat the paper they're packed in.

"There's so much bad press about insects," A'psis said. "We really could cure world hunger and wipe out some of the pest population in one fell swoop."

A'psis promoted the Insectarium and entomophagy during the recent WIP Wing Bowl challenges. Well-known contestant Bob "Mize" Meyer asked to buy a dozen American cockroaches from the Insectarium. He wanted to eat them to qualify himself for the Wing Bowl (he did). She gave them to him for free and he invited her on WIP with host Angelo Cataldi.

For good radio, A'psis promised to eat a live cricket. As she opened her mouth, Mize popped a live roach in instead. "Oh my God," she said. "It was scurrying around, it ran down my throat, I could feel its legs. I am never speechless."

This, from a woman who invented McNabbetts.

Nicole Clark Juan Gil, 3, of Maple Shade, NJ, crunches on baked larvae with education supervisor Jeanette A'psis.

"I eat them on the tours," she said. "Do I make 'em up on Saturday nights for myself? No."

A'psis couldn't allow her guests to chow down on marinated crickets and the rest of the feast because the Insectarium is not a licensed restaurateur. Only Klemm sampled a McNabbett.

But as a souvenir, visitors went home with tasty pre-wrapped baked larva in a Mexican spice flavor, courtesy of California-based company Hotlix.

Three-year-old Juan Gil of Maple Shade, NJ, with some coaxing from A'psis, ate a few. He didn't know any better. Brian Hamill, 27, did but so what? He was hungry.

"I swear, they taste like Cheez-Its," said Hamill of Somerton, who dumped an entire bag of artificially-orange larva in his mouth. "They're scaly but they taste pretty good. You got any more?"