Caramel Copperbacks

Copperbacks Done Grandma's Way “If it ain’t hummin in the bucket it ain’t fresh.”

  Gatherin Notes You want the fat ones. Not them skinny sky-cicadas. The good kind with copper shells and wings that shine like burnt glass. They crawl out after a good rain when the air’s thick and frogs start yelling. Listen for the click-hum-click and check under leaves on bark or stuck in your shawl if the forest likes you.   Grab two big handfuls. One for cookin one for snacking while you prep. Don't fib. We all do it.   Prepwork   Knock em out soft. I use a puff of sleeper root or sing em my mossbread song.   Twist off the wings. Don’t toss em. Save em for soap tins or spirit chimes.   Split the belly with your good knife. Scoop out the bitter. Curse once or twice. They come out cleaner if you do.   Grandma’s Way: Firepit Caramelbacks My third husband’s favorite. Didn’t keep him around but the dogs liked him so here it is.  

• Dig a shallow pit. Line it with stones hot enough to sizzle a wet leaf.
• Stuff the bugs with whatever's good. Moss croutons. Shaved garlic. Berry mash. Saltcaps if the kids didn’t eat em raw.
• Wrap each one in a fern. The wet kind not the dry crackly stuff.
• Drip real syrup over the bundle. If it came out the pine it don’t count.
• Pile on more fern more stones then dirt. Leave em for an hour.
• Pull em out when the sun dips low. If they don’t hiss when you bite you did it wrong.

  Variations

• Cheeky Sweetlings – Roll in bee sugar after roastin. Serve to guests who might stay too long.
• Widow’s Spicebacks – Add fire pepper flakes and licorice root. Good for cold toes and mean memories.
• Funeral Crisp – Roast plain with black root vinegar. Eat quiet. Think of someone gone.

  A Final Note These little things fed my girls through frost and flood. They buzz they bite and they take flavor better than most folk do. If you don’t like em that’s fine. Means more for me.   “Every copperback’s got a crunch. Just like life.” – Grandma Clarn (That’s me.)