the game is afoot -- and a tail

Surf and turf? Slither and wallow? Croc and pork? Leg and tail?

What would you call a game platter featuring crocodile and wild boar? Or cocodrilo and jabalí -- as we say in this neck of the culinary woods.

Neither dish is new to me. Four years ago, I forked my way through both crocodile and wild boar dinners at Papa Gallo's in San Patricio (stop the presses). And I did it again last night.

Usually, having eaten something exotic, I am willing to move on to something else down the food chain. I do not like repeating myself when there are so many new tastes to savor in life.

But tonight was a new taste. The stage was the same and the meat stars on the plate were familiar. But it was a completely different production. To maintain the analogy, the playwright was new. In this case, it was a new chef. With new ideas.

As it turns out, they were successful ideas.

Three years ago I decried the lazy cliché that crocodile (or alligator) tastes like chicken. The list of poultry-cousins is long. Rattlesnake. Frog legs. Rabbit. Iguana. Kangaroo. Emu. At times, I think the only animal that does not taste like chicken is -- well, chicken. At least in The States. Here in Mexico, chicken still tastes like the chicken my grandmother would pluck from the coop.

But crocodile does not taste like chicken. It tastes like crocodile. Just as frog legs taste like frog legs. Not chicken.

And the plate I had last night had the subtle marine-like layer that gives crocodile its signature taste. That may be why most people struggle to disinter a taste analogy. The taste of crocodile is almost neutral.

Like most crocodile meat, mine was from the tail -- the tenderest part of the reptile. If you have ever seen a crocodile use its tail while swimming, it will not come as a surprise that the tail is a series of muscles that lend themselves to providing protein to gourmands.

The chef chose to cook it as nuggets accompanied with a jalapeño-spiked cream sauce. A perfect combination. Both tender and smooth.

The wild boar slices came from the leg. Its complement was a caramelized onion-red wine-árbol chili salsa.

I brought along a cream-based fresh onion-horseradish salsa spiked with one of Giovanni's salsas with which I have been experimenting. (More on those salsas later.)

Both the crocodile and the wild boar are served as individual appetizers, but I turned a combination plate into a perfect dinner while watching the sun set over the ocean.

In case you are wondering, yes, the meat is game. And it came from one of the culinary world's greatest institutions -- a game farm. I grew up eating venison that was brought down by one of the hunter males in the tribe. I never took up the rifle myself.

But I have always had a yen for the gamy taste of wild animals. Not being a hunter, I hire assassins to execute my food. And I am happy with the taste I can find on game farms.

That was certainly true of my crocodile and wild boar at Papa Gallo's.

I have no idea how long it will stay on the menu. I suggest getting over there soon before the Moving Finger moves on -- and before it also gets cooked up as an appetizer.