New Zealand rivers are swimming (punny!) with slithery, near blind, toothy eels. The stuff of nightmares endemic to an otherwise gentle country. I have always thought of eels as blood-thirsty, murderous demon creature of the deep (no thanks to the Princess Bride) but I also know that unagi is absolutely heavenly, so you can imagine my contradicting emotions while I was getting ready for some good old-fashioned night eel fishing.
Angling aficionados need not apply to this rather rudimentary endeavor. Eels are not clever, they can't see and they eat nearly anything (including cat food). Basically, you need meat (rotten is fine), a hook and some line. Almost comically, plop goes the bait and out comes a writhing, angry eel.
The hard part is getting them off the hook, they are incredibly slippery and strong, they curl around your hand like a lubed up snake. After battling to get the hook out of their mouth my friend Bene recommends sticking a knife through their skull to crush their tiny brain, but be aware that they don't stop moving. THAT is the stuff of nightmares. The next morning, after a night in the fridge in a plastic bag their headless bodies were still quivering. Again, badass Bene took up the grunt work and gutted and filleted them for us.
So, if you dare, I recommend either smoking the eels or frying them up in butter then baking them in garlic, lemon and butter until their skins are crispy. The result is an exquisite flaky, tender fish-like meat with no lingering fishy aftertaste.
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