An Aesthetic Blog

African Pygmy Goose (Nettapus auritus)

true love is possible (only in the next world– for new people. it is too late for us.)

One thing I’ve noticed over my crafting years is how often people watch. Every now and then someone will ask what I’m doing, want to talk about the craft or reminisce about someone they knew who did that sort of thing. But mostly people watch in silence. A child will turn in their seat and watch in open fascination as my hands work. An adult will pause and watch, their expressions rapt.

People stop, and watch, and sometimes they smile, sometimes the line of their shoulders relax. Sometimes they look curious. Something about me crafting in public draws their attention and they pause in their busy lives to watch. They lean over in the waiting room chairs in interest, and often they startle when their names are called.

And I simply angle myself so they can see a little clearer and hope that maybe the waiting wasn’t so tedious for them today.

Like. I remember back in my grocery store cashier days I did so much crazy shit.

When WIC (Women, infants, and children voucher program to help low income mothers/families with children) people were in my line I would pretty much know who they were. Before the cards they had to tell us upfront they were WIC and show us their vouchers for what they were allowed to get (it was awful some times. Like. 2 gallons of milk. $4 worth of vegetables etc etc). They’d always have items hanging back, waiting to see what the total was and if they would have to take it off the belt.

I began to place the fruits/vegetables a certain way on the register scale so that like 1/2lbs of grapes read as like .28lbs or something. Then act shocked when I said that they still had X amount of lbs left. They got all their fruit and vegetables.

I think it started to kinda? Catch on to the women? Because I would have the same moms in my line month after month. And even after they switched to the cards (they worked like food stamp cards?) I’d still do the same thing. They were able to get more produce for whatever shitty max amount Indiana gave them.

Most current residents of the West are not sold on the idea of eating insects. But the same cannot be said for the rest of the world. From the witchetty grubs traditionally eaten by Aboriginal Australians to the maguey worms of Mexico, to the steamed silkworm pupae sold as street food in South Korea, to the termite ugali served with a Kenyan version of porridge, bug-based grub is no big deal. Yet Americans and Europeans are squeamish. (Pre-colonization, America was a different story. Up to 50 percent of Native communities incorporated insects into their diet in a range of dishes, from katydid fruitcake to cicadas fried in hog fat.)

In “Edible insects: Future prospects for food and feed security,” a 200-page report published in 2013, the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) noted that “Western societies require tailored media communication strategies and educational programmes that address the disgust factor” of eating insects. Bug banquets such as Bugsgiving offer one such educational opportunity. Yoon, who considers himself an “Edible Insect Ambassador,” focused on creating a family-style menu of dishes. “Instead of just serving crickets in a bowl or a chip, I want to serve black ants and shrimp, composed dishes—cricket gougères,” he says. “Things that represent a dish that [will make people] go, ‘Oh, that looks like food to me.’” Research cited by the UN proves that this strategy works: “Years of experimental experience in the Netherlands and the United States have confirmed the effectiveness of bug banquets in overcoming the disgust factor,” reads the 2013 FAO report.

“Do you see me now, Goncharov?”

~