Eating Big Ass Ants in Colombia

by Stephanie Sadler

They’ve arrived. The air in Mogotes, Colombia, is thick with their distinct scent of this adventurous afternoon snack. It smells woodsy, like smoked meat on a campfire.

Colombians call them hormigas culonas. Foreigners refer to them as the “Big-Ass Ants”.  They’re shiny, about as long as the top joint of your thumb, body split into three sections, long transparent wings attached, little pinchers on the head. In the mountainous Santander department of Colombia, the giants ants a favorite delicacy. Salted and fried, they taste a bit like bacon.

It started with the Guane Indians who believed them to have the power of an aphrodisiac. Around this time of year, they emerge from the ground to mate in the air, an acrobatic love act. The females (they only eat the women) are snatched and brought home in plastic bags, still alive.

Preparation is part of the tradition. Families gather around kitchen tables, a bit of Latin American music in the background and they set to work plucking limbs. The ants crawl slowly over one another in metal pots, awaiting their destiny.

It was reminiscent of Autumn chowder season back home in New York, a slightly festive atmosphere, anticipation to taste the final product, laughing and chatting around the table. Instead of coffee and doughtnuts they’re eating arepa (fried corn cakes) and drinking aguapanela (a popular drink made from sugarcane).

And no one is chopping carrots and celery into bits. They’re yanking off heads, pulling the legs and wings and setting them in a pile. Everyone takes a handful of squirming ants, plops them, still crawling slowly, in front of their place at the table. One by one, they are beheaded.

How to prepare an ant: 

Grab the middle section of the body and hold tightly.

With the other hand, quickly snap off the head sideways, avoiding pinchers.

Now that the ant can’t see, you’re free to pick off the legs and the wings in any order. You may feel like a sadistic child pulling the legs off a helpless daddy-longlegs, but at least this has a purpose.

What is left of the ant is tossed into a bowl. This half and the other bits on the table are all still wiggling about. When the pots are empty and the bowls are full, they are taken to the kitchen.

Here, they are washed through a strainer many times over then left overnight to soak in a pot of salted water. At some point, death finally sets in.

The next day, it’s time for frying. The ants don’t require oil because they secrete their own so not to worry about that. They cook for just under two hours, stirring constantly. Any remaining wings that didn’t get plucked the night before will fall off during cooking and either stick to the side of the pan or your spoon.

When the ants are ready to eat, their bodies turn dark-brown to black and become shiny. The back end is dry rather than moist as it is when they are alive. They’re laid out to cool on a flat baking tray.

Then it’s time to tuck in. Don’t worry, they’re tasty – a great alternative to a bag of potato chips with the crisp of popcorn and the flavour of a Saturday morning breakfast fry-up. Fresh, they’re especially delicious.