THE 1906 edition of Petit Larousse, the concise version of the French food bible, contains a recipe for sauce de claporte, which, the author assures us, is an excellent accompaniment to fried flatfish. It is said that the French language can make any foodstuff appear appetising and this is a case in point. Claporte is the French word for woodlouse. Although this may seem an extreme example of French culinary thriftiness, it does make vague gastronomic sense. The woodlouse is not an insect, after all, but a land-based crustacean, a relative of the langoustine and the lobster.
Despite the best efforts of the French and of Victorian eccentric Vincent Holt (the author of 1885 cookery book, who thought woodlice tasted like ‘superior shrimps’ and recommended serving them in an omelette, possibly as a starter before a main course of curried cockchafers), eating woodlice has never caught on. Not even in the animal kingdom. Hedgehogs turn their noses up at woodlice and birds spit them out. This is because, unlike the crayfish and the crab, the woodlouse secretes ammonia through its shell, which gives it the scent of a public convenience.
