ENC 11 01 Valencia College A Taste for Bugs Final Exam Paper Your final exam will be to read an article I’ve provided, and to write a page about this topic

ENC 11 01 Valencia College A Taste for Bugs Final Exam Paper Your final exam will be to read an article I’ve provided, and to write a page about this topic (250 words). How do you feel about eating bugs? Use a quotation from the article to help prove your position, and remember to use a quotation sandwich and internal documentation. You will also need to create a Works Cited entry for this article, and I’ve included a scrambled list of all the information you’ll need. Make sure to use the MLA8 models to organize your Work Cited entry. You will want to upload your final (saved in Word or Rich Text Format). Article title = “A Taste for Bugs”
Author = Lionel Atwill
Journal title = Field & Stream (West ed.).
Date of publication = Dec. 1998
Page # = 22
Date of access = 29 Oct. 2017
Database name: Culinary Arts Collection
URL, it’s longer, but for the final, just put go.galegroup…ddd3
Masticating the unthinkable can have powerful fringe benefits.
Last fall in a Texas hunting camp I showed two 10-year-old boys how to eat bugs. We started
with moths, moved through grasshoppers, and finished with a crunchy beetle. Those boys
thought bug eating was pretty neat. So do I. So did my host, an orthopedic surgeon who, in
another camp at another rime, slurped down a spider as it descended over his breakfast, much to
the disgust of his tablemates, a brace of lawyers and their big-haired wives. The lawyers were not
bug eaters. They were more into fancy boots … and big-haired wives.
My bug eating is a manifestation of the primitive within (although that definition is a bit too ’90s
for me). Along with a propensity for not shaving, for enduring dirt and a share of misery, for
enjoying great globs of meat that earlier in the day was roaming free, eating bugs helps me
scrape off a layer of civilization that impinges too much on my life.
Those lawyers I mentioned tended to maintain their civilized ways. As a consequence, they
hunted in a most civilized manner, driving about in their shiny SUVs, potting deer out the
window, while my orthopod friend and I skulked through the bush with bows, all sweaty and
chigger-infested. The lawyers’ hunt was a fun diversion, I’m sure, but our hunt was more visceral
and thereby more enriching. What with eating bugs, not shaving, and getting dirty, it certainly
was more fun.
My daughter, who goes to a semi-prestigious, liberal, painfully expensive Boston-area college,
also eats bugs. She is in touch with her less civilized side and in part because of that she has the
confidence of a lion–what psychobabblists call self-esteem. She learned about her primitive self
at an early age. When she was 18 months or thereabouts, I taught her to growl whenever I said
“deer meat.” She developed a lusty, guttural roar that I like to think released the primordial
woman within.
When she was three, I gave her a woodcock I had shot. With great enthusiasm she plucked it,
starting at the head. Then she progressed down its little body until the woodcock looked like a
newborn pigeon with a beak job.
Over the next few years we covered gross anatomy, dissecting various creatures, large and small.
From the hide of one mole we made a lovely rug, backed with felt, for her dollhouse. The
dollhouse has passed on, but she took the tiny rug to college. When she was 12, we shared our
first meal of bugs. I had taken the family to Kenya over Christmas to ride horses across the
Masai Mara, an extravagant vacation I could not afford, but which my bug-eating doctor friend
talked me into.
One evening after a hard rain, a hatch of termites swept through camp. The Africans were
ecstatic. They placed plastic wash tubs on the ground with a lantern in each, and partially filled
the tubs with water. The termites were attracted to the light, fell in the water, and drowned,
whereupon the Africans scooped them up by the handfuls. The cook roasted them. They were
nutty and crunchy. I arranged a half-dozen on a plate and took them to my daughter, who was
reading some teen-swoon novel in her tent. Besides the photo of her holding a scalped
woodcock, my favorite snapshot is of her chewing a termite with gusto.
Eating the occasional bug is a fine reality check: it can put you in touch with a time in our recent
evolutionary past when eating a whole bunch of bugs was considered a decent meal. Just as the
more noble aspects of civilization–great music, fine art, good wine, evocative writing, a hot
shower–stir passion in our guts, so, too, do the baser things. A semi-nasty hunting or fishing trip,
where the dirt gets under your fingernails and the food comes wrapped in hide or scales, can
clear your head and show you what you are made of and bring into clear focus the great
importance of simple pleasures: land, game, fish, friends.
So on your next expedition, see what hides beneath that prized, civilized veneer. Take a bug to
lunch.
Works Cited Model:
Sorry about the wonky formatting. To see periods and commas better, view p. 552, #11,
Everyone’s an Author.
PeriodicalArticle,Monthly Publication
Author.
“Title of
Article.”
Pag e
#s .
Database.
Schneider, Sara . “Crazy Blends: Winemakers are Mixing Grapes in Ways Never Seen Before – With
Great Results .” Sunset, Mar. 2011, pp. 100-2. Culinary ArtsCollection, db29.linccweb.org/login
? url=http://go.galegroup.com.db29.linccweb.org/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA251000690&v=2.1&u=linc
clin_vcc&it=r&p=PPCA&sw=w&asid=f8cb16e8dd65a5d674619596fa4ec2cf. Accessed 10 July
2017.
Periodical
Title,
Date of
Publication,
Permalink.
Date of
Access. *

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