The True Frog

There is a bakery somewhere near Mariposa and Byrant. The aroma that fills the block reminds me of Hong Kong in the 1960’s, when in the evening you could buy fresh bread from the corner store. I used to roll the soft warm bread back into a doughy ball before I put it in my mouth. Like cream soda, stir-fried spaghetti and Neapolitan ice cream, certain foods always taste wonderful in my childhood memories.

Frog was another staple food. The sweet and delicate meat, almost translucent, steamed and flavored with scallions or with black bean sauce, resting on a bed of rice, was one of my school-lunch favorites.  Many years later I was ecstatic to find frog in a Danville grocery store. But when I cooked the meat it emitted a horrible smell. That, unfortunately, became part of my frog memory.

When Jack Foley discovered frog dishes in Binh Minh Quan, a Vietnamese restaurant in Oakland, my desire for frog returned. It was important for me to erase the bad memory and preserve the good one.

“Have to try it,” I told him.

They offered the frog in butter, with lemon grass or curry. I chose lemon grass.

It was delicious.