When I came home from class for the big meal of the day—comida—I was greeted by a large pot of eels. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted a large, steamy pot of eels, but I also wanted to help make it. Unfortunately, my senora’s daughter swung by the house, saw the goodies in the fridge and made up the all I pebre all by herself.
I was distraught.
I was upset.
I wanted to cook too!
As I silently cried to myself I was handed a large bowl of the stuff. Invisible tears rolled down my cheek as I air-planed a small chunk of stewed eel into towards mouth. The little guy was alive only hours ago, bravely wiggling around in the fridge after having his head separated from his body. He was waiting for me! All morning I envisioned my senora and me, dancing around the kitchen stewing eels, talking Spanish and sharing our excitement about the delicious meal we would soon share. We would lovingly cook our eels while singing songs of homage and bonding over a simmering stovetop.
It didn’t happen like this; I was crushed. I kept on reflecting on my broken dreams when I realized there was an eel bone lodged between my teeth.
!Joder!
Eel is one of the smoothest sea creatures I have ever eaten. It has the consistency of other fish, only with much more meat. The flavor was rich but doesn’t have that overpowering seafood feel (fresh water creatures know where it’s at.) The mighty eel was the perfect complement for the potatoes, onions and tomatoes sharing the spoon and I look forward to meeting him again.
After a few more bites I stopped sulking and quickly finished off my pebre. It was delicious and although I didn’t get to help cook it, there are more eels in Valencia waiting for me.
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