Forget the jellied version, there are better ways to enjoy eel. But should we?
The delicious if often overlooked eel presents the cook and gourmet with culinary and ethical questions: to eat or not to eat? Subtly smoked or solidly stewed? Hot or cold? It has a unique texture and fine flavour, but ecologically may be a no-no now.
Nature and nurture
Until the Twenties the lifecycle of the eel – anguilla anguilla – was a mystery. Then biologists traced its spawning ground in the Sargasso Sea. Tiny larvae drift to shore on currents, changing into elvers just before landfall. These swim upstream if they get the chance – the Spanish in particular love elvers (for me a memorably expensive meal in pre-Guggenhiem Bilbao demonstrated why), as once did we: “When I was a lad we used to have elver and bacon butties,” says Lancashire’s Paul Gavaghan, a licensed eel catcher. With fish farms paying up to £500/kg for elvers to grow on – nobody has yet mastered production from egg to adult – such profligacy is past.
Inland elvers swim and slither into every waterway. There they grow until reversing the route to spawn and die. Now they are becoming rarer, perhaps another global-warming victim, doubtless overfished too. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s suggests we eat only what we catch: it would be sad though if artisan smoked eel disappeared.
Smoked
Jane Grigson preferred smoked eel to smoked salmon. Jesse Pattisson, owner of renowned producers Brown and Forrest, outlines the differences: “Eel’s a much richer, much meatier fish, a subtler fish because it’s white fleshed so holds the smoke better – we use beechwood for the eels where we use oak for the salmon.” It needs little adornment: “In the restaurant we serve them on rye bread with horseradish and beetroot, we don’t muck about with them.” Paul Gavaghan suggests another simple dish: “Warmed, with a few fried potatoes, some bacon and cream – beautiful, can’t beat it.”
Stewed
The (unsmoked) eel is one of the few fish robust enough to withstand prolonged cooking. Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking cites matelote d’anguilles, where they are stewed in red wine; and catigau d’anguilles, a saffron-infused dish served with rouille. In Portugal they make a hearty eel dish with potatoes and onions, again flavoured with saffron. If you try these, make sure your fishmonger skins the eels – it’s difficult. Otherwise refer to Rick Stein’s English Seafood Cookery.
British eel dishes
Jellied eels are an acquired taste some of us never acquire. Harnessing their natural gelatinous quality is best left to East End experts – even Gordon Ramsay called it challenging. They were food for the poor, as once was eel pie – as in the Thames island – now something you’ll only find in upmarket fish restaurants. And the elvers once served in Gloucester pubs are unlikely to be seen again in such surroundings anytime soon.
What are your experiences of eating eels and elvers?
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