I have had my share of exotic food in my lifetime.
There was obligatory escargot in France because that’s what the French put on their plates. (It tasted like snails.)
I nibbled on gator as an appetizer in Orlando. (It tasted like chicken.) On an autumn evening in Phoenix, Arizona, everybody at my table sampled some rattlesnake. (It tasted like greasy, three-day-old rotisserie chicken from Kroger.)
But I’ve never had a bite of a hippopotamus. It is not a delicacy from the deli. It is not on the menu at Natalia’s, Jeneane’s, Jimmy John’s, or other fine dining establishments. Publix does not offer a BOGO on the HIPPO.
Most likely, it is high in cholesterol and saturated fat. A little on the chewy side, too.
I do have the recipe, though, thanks to the late Shel Silverstein, one of my favorite children’s authors.
Last week, I was asked to read to my granddaughter’s kindergarten class. There are a grizzillion children’s books out there, and we must have at least half of them in our home library. Choosing can be a daunting task, kind of like figuring out what to watch on TV with all those channels in front of you.
My go-to was Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends.’’ It is a beloved icon at our house. We are on at least our third copy. It is well-worn by years of turning the smudged and dog-eared pages.