Food & Drink

Grass-Whoppers are nothing to chirp about

Antojeria la Popular’s “Grass-Whopper” is a whopper, all right — the crunchy critter served burger-style isn’t actually grasshopper at all, but cricket. At least it was Thursday. The manager admitted that “Grass-Whopper” has more chirp to it than “cricket on a wheat pita mini-bun with queso, chipotle mayo, lettuce, tomatoes and onion.”

Lest you think the species are the same, grasshoppers are shorter than their order Orthoptera cousins. And while grasshoppers go about their activities 24/7, crickets are nocturnal.

Night or day, Antojeria’s cricket burger predictably tastes mainly of the cheese/mayo blur that passes for “Mexican” in a million New York joints. The warm-fried-insect element has nil flavor but tons of texture — a crackle that’s pleasant, except when a sharp-edged fragment lodges in your throat.

Squeamish types won’t be grossed out. The fine-shredded cricket reveals no antenna, legs or scary head. For an exotic little organism truly arresting to the eyes, I suggest you track down SushiSamba’s creepy-cute river crabs, which resemble daddy longlegs and at least taste something like Fritos.

But if you insist on not-quite-grasshopper, go with Antojeria’s tostada Oaxaca, an item it’s offered without inciting a media stampede since the place opened a year ago.

The cricket (“from the Pacific Coast”) is presented on a crisp blue-corn tostada where it belongs, drizzled with avocado, crema and lime — fun to eat with your hands and perfect for washing down with tequila or mezcal.

If you’re looking for real grasshopper, head to Casa Mezcal on Orchard Street, where the Mexican fried delicacy has been served for years without hype as part of a gooey chapulqueso mess of melted cheese and tomato.

And if you don’t like my dissing the Grass-Whopper, bug off!