Consider the eel
I was scanning a sale announcement from Jessica’s Biscuit, one of my favorite virtual cookbook haunts, and I zoomed in on this book, Consider the Eel, by Richard Schweid. A cookbook about eels? Indeed. The author discusses the fascinating life of eels (did you know every eel starts out in the Sargasso Sea and spends up to three years of its early life drifting to either European or North American rivers? I didn’t!) and includes historic and contemporary recipes for this odd-looking fish. I’m tempted to order the book, although eels squeesh me out, visually and texture-wise. They remind me of snakes, and the few times I’ve eaten eel, the sliminess of it turned me off.
I’ve never seen eel on a U.S. menu, except in sushi restaurants. Eels seems to be more popular in Europe, where I occasionally see it on menus. Next time I’m in Europe, I want to try two new-to-me eel dishes: jellied eel when I visit London (which won’t do much to quell the slime factor) and deep-fried elvers, or baby eels, a Basque specialty.
Until then, you’ll have to look for your eel recipes somewhere else on the web — or order this book from Jessica!
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When my grandmother was a kid, her dad (who was a cross between a mad scientist, a poet, and a the world’s biggest practical joker) once came home with a squiggling squirming paper bag full of live eels. He went to hand them to my great grandmother Daisy — at which point she looked at him like he was crazy, took the kids out to dinner, and left my great grandfather (quite literally) holding the bag.
What a great story, Jenna. Haa, those suckers are hard to kill. I watched Gordon Ramsay try to handle one once; even he struggled.
Sadly, I have no idea who won the battle: my great grandfather or the eels. He was a very very nice man and I couldn’t picture him killing anything so, I have a feeling, the eels ended up in the river.