Lent. For some it means one meal a day. For others it means no meat all day. For me it means something with four times more protein than a lot of meat. For me, it’s the start of escamol season.

Escamoles. The first mention of them was early in the 16th Century, when Fray Bernadino Sanagún noted their existence in his General History of the Things in New Spain. They were not the only unusual dish he wrote about. The monk documented 96 edible insects in his writings about Mexico. Yes, escamoles are insects. Yes, they’re edible. Yes, I eat them. And yes, so does the much more persnickety eater known as Don Day’s Wife.

Their name comes from the Aztec language, a combination of azcatl meaning ant and molli meaning purée. Escamoles are not exactly ants though. They’re the eggs of ants and, more specifically, for those with a science degree, the larvae of the guijera ant, Liometopum apiculatum.

My first infatuation with escamoles was about four years ago when a San Miguel chef called Stefania Chavez introduced them to me.

They looked like a cross between pine nuts and fluffy rice. They tasted like sweet nuts and butter. Though they’re hardly similar, the moment brought memories of when I was seven years old and I savored my first banana.

The infatuation grew to devotion when, the following year, a restauranteur/entrepreneur called Marcelo Castro Vera placed them on a menu at El Nidal. Marcelo explained to me how escamoles could be found living deep under maguey plants, with sometimes as many as five kilos of eggs under these plants that were destined to someday be mezcal. But there was a problem. The escamole’s parents weren’t too happy about parting with their kids and there’d often be thousands of them, with some of the nastiest stings known in the ant world, guarding the nests. The queen ant also had to be spared or there’d be no harvest the following year.

Now don’t expect much quantity in a serving of escamoles. One of the reasons they’re called the Mexican caviar is their price. I’ve seen escamoles at close to $2000 a kilo. They’re best served very simply, with next to no competing flavors other than the butter they’re fried in.

OK, I’m ready. Where can I eat escamoles?

Though I don’t know a single San Miguel retailer that sells them in San Miguel, they are not terribly hard to find in restaurants, particularly in March and April. There’ll be one particular opportunity to sample escamoles later this month. That’s when Marcelo Castro Vera will be showcasing them in a wine-pairing dinner at The Tasting Room in San Miguel. And if ant eggs aren’t your thing, they’re just a small part of the feast that will include many of Marcelo’s wood-fired meat specialties including brisket, pork belly and chamorro.

The dishes will be paired with five different wines from Marcelo’s Octagono winery including his orange wine, the first wine in Mexico to be fermented and stored in buried clay pots.

The date is Monday, March 28. Start time is 7:00 pm. The place is The Tasting Room at USBK Gallery. The location is Tenerias #2. The price is $950 plus service. To reserve, email me at dondayinsma@yahoo.com and tell me the number in your party. I’ll confirm by email or send regrets if we’re already full. And because this is a specially catered event, no-shows and last-day cancellations are still expected to pay.