AMERICAN THEATRE: You’ve probably never heard of Chug, arguably the least celebrated among the hundreds of works on offer over the decades at the annual Humana Festival of New American Plays. Believe me, there’s no shortage of competition. Nevertheless, of Ken Jenkins’s jaunty tour through a Southern Indiana backwater, I won’t ever forget the big reveal: a restaurant-grade freezer filled to the flippers with frog legs, individually bagged and solid as the tilapia at Trader Joe’s. We were invited, back then in 1981, to take the bounty off his hands for a song, should we entertain a hankering for such victuals.
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