The Poetry of
Jack Scott

Automythology

Dec 14
2015

Escargot Anyone?

When I lived in Parkville, I drove over one Saturday evening to the Mediterranean Deli on Harford Road to get cheese, lunchmeat, olives and fresh bread for supper. I always loved going into the place; with its exotic sights and odors it was always evocative of foreign lands, truly cosmopolitan. In the middle of the floor was a freshly delivered, wooden barrel full to the open top with snails, escargot on the hoof, from god knows where. Interesting.

Next morning, I went back for fresh pastry. All of the snails had escaped overnight at their own pace. They covered all walls, bottles, cans, jars on all shelves, even the ceiling, everywhere but inside refrigerated and other closed cases. Everyone, staff and customers were involved in collecting them and returning them to the barrel. I was not alone in buying some to take home, an impulse purchase I did not come to regret. Sautéed in garlic and wine butter, they were delicious.

 

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From Poemystic.com