I thought by now that only French cuisine cooks frogs. also the story is amaising. we and my cousin here in Moldova, in the childhood always went on such adventuries of food gathering from the heart of nature. But here we do not have the culture of eating frogs...
It was a Tajik autumn when the rays of the setting sun caress the golden mountain tops, and nature seems to pause in anticipation of winter, while the wind gently whispers about the imminent arrival of silence and snow. But that year, autumn was unusual: after early and fierce frosts, the weather suddenly changed, a warm wind brought soft air filled with the scents of wilting leaves and earth, as if reviving after a cold sleep. But this recidivism of warm summer did not last long. Frost struck again, everything was covered with hoarfrost, and the cold sun sparkled from the clear sky, bringing light without warmth. Armed with nothing but curiosity and childish enthusiasm, my cousin and I ventured deep into the forest, hoping, perhaps, to find some edible roots or forgotten nuts on the branches, unaware of the miracle that awaited us.