1314763553_94fbb58c5e_b

Gaw, a blogger at The Dabbler, can't stomach traditional Cockney cuisine:

Jellied eels somehow seem a more appropriate accompaniment to a funeral than baked meats. I can see the mourners exchanging regretful comments between lugubrious spoonfuls of silvery eel and golden jelly, turning away occasionally to suck on the odd piece of protuberant cartilage.

… I can’t think of another instance where I haven’t liked the local, traditional, everyday food of a place (unless it’s featured tripe): wurstl, pizza, croque monsieur, balti, burgers, gallettes, chips and mayo, waffles, herring (pickled and smoked), tapas, salt beef, stovies, noodles, fish and chips, tacos, kebabs, knishes, dosas, phô, pasties, pelmeni (OK, perhaps I’ll make an exception for that last one – the Russian equivalent of the Cockney pie). And so on. No, I really would like to enjoy Cockney grub. But I just can’t – it’s simply no good.

Just stay a while for the spotted dick and bubble and squeak. And yes, I grew up on both, which may explain this. George Orwell's classic defense is here. It reads like a blog-post avant-la-lettre.

(Photo of jellied eels by Flickr user Malias)