My thought process went something like this: “I live in east London yet I have never tried jellied eels, the typical east London cuisine, nor do I know anyone that has. So you know what? I shall be a real east Londoner and eat what surely must be a delicacy”. Now i look back on this naive country girl’s whimsicals and oh, how I laugh. Well I would if I couldn’t still taste the foul, fishy funk in my mouth every time I open my gob.
After one mouthful, you soon realise that water is not strong enough. Neither is swilling meths. Like a cold platter of tough catfood with the tough skins left on and extra eel flavour crammed in to the bile surrounding it. I honestly cannot fathom how that little eel shop can survive. One explanation is that idiots like me will have some nostalgic thought processes and spend £2.50 on shark bait. Maybe it’s tasty when hot…
