To the little that he has to say about the Cossus, Pliny adds: “Etiam farina saginati, hi quoque altiles sunt,” which means that the worms were fattened with meal to improve their flavour. The recipe startled me at first, all the more so as the old naturalist is much given to this system of fattening. He tells us of one Fulvius Hirpinus who invented the art of rearing Snails, so highly esteemed by the gormandizers of the day. The herd destined to be fattened were placed in a park surrounded by water to prevent escape and furnished with earthenware vases to serve as shelters. Fed on a paste of flour and syrupy wine, the Snails became enormous. Notwithstanding all my respect for the venerable naturalist, I cannot believe that molluscs thrive so remarkably when put on a diet of flour and syrupy wine. These are childish exaggerations, which were inevitable at first, when the scientific spirit of research had not yet come into being. Pliny artlessly repeats the talk of the country folk of his day. I have much the same doubts about the Cossi that put on flesh when fed with meal. Still, the result is less incredible than that alleged to take place in the Snail-park. As a scrupulous observer, let me test the method. I put a few grubs taken from the pines in a glass jar full of flour. They receive no other food. I expected to see the larvæ, smothered in that fine dust, dying quickly, either suffocated by the obstruction of their air-holes or perishing for lack of suitable nourishment. Great was my mistake. Pliny was right: the Cossi thrive in the flour and feed heartily on it. I have before me some that have spent a year in this environment. They eat their way through it, scooping out corridors and leaving behind them a brown paste, the waste product of their digestive organs. That they are actually fatter I cannot state for a fact; but at least they have a magnificent appearance, no less imposing than that of others which were kept in jars filled with scraps of their native tree-stumps. The flour is amply sufficient, if not to fatten them, at least to keep them in excellent condition. Enough of the Cossus and my crazy skewers. If I have studied the question so closely, it certainly has not been with the hope of enriching our bills of fare. No, that was not my object, even though Brillat-Savarin [51] has said that “the invention of a new dish is a greater benefit to humanity than the discovery of an asteroid.”. The scarcity of the pine-tree’s plump inhabitants and the repugnance with which the vast majority of us view any sort of vermin will always prevent my new comestible from becoming a common article of diet. It is probable even that it will remain a mere curiosity, which people will take on trust without verifying its qualities. Not everybody has the needful independence of stomach to appreciate the merits of a worm.