Anyone else love em, drenched in vinegar mmmm
Do you like cockles?
Oh my God yes! Soaked in vinegar with a little white pepper.
I want some! Now! But you can't seem to buy them anywhere in London anymore... no fishmongers seem to do them
I want some! Now! But you can't seem to buy them anywhere in London anymore... no fishmongers seem to do them
Love them with and without vinegar and white pepper. Mmmmmmm.....could just eat a big bowl full now too.
Oh yes, they are luvurley.
Years ago, for my 30th my mates and me went to Newquay for a long weekend.
As 'Birthday Boy' my rules stood, and among others was eating a pot of cockles on the seafront.
Cue several big, scary beer monsters holding a little polystyrene pot and a tooth pick looking very green.
They snarfed they down, and after they got over the look of them quite enjoyed them.
Years ago, for my 30th my mates and me went to Newquay for a long weekend.
As 'Birthday Boy' my rules stood, and among others was eating a pot of cockles on the seafront.
Cue several big, scary beer monsters holding a little polystyrene pot and a tooth pick looking very green.
They snarfed they down, and after they got over the look of them quite enjoyed them.
I love cockles. Fresh from the seaside is best with white pepper and malt vinegar in a pot 
I like them in the jars too.
Yum yum
I like them in the jars too.
Yum yum
Mmm not had them for so long though..I don't see much point in buying a jar.. I'm the only one who'd eat them
So about a quarter century ago there was this girl, a friend of my sister, who was about the house one night and who had not only caught my eye, but stuffed and mounted it over her fireplace all without her noticing such.
During the course of some anecdote she was relating I happened to pick up on a word or two of what she was saying, purely by accident. It appeared she liked pickled cockles, not only liked but rhapsodised about them and particularly the gritty texture of sand objecting as tooth sundered flesh.
About a week passed and for the first time in my life I noticed that the local off-license sold pickled cockles. They may have sprung new-formed and novel over-night but I think they were always there and I just never noticed. I bagged a jar and somehow found myself positioned to bump into my delight as we supped prior to going our different debaucheries that night.
My plans were changed and abandoned as we shared that jar of pickled cockles. We laughed and teased, and touched and squeezed and then it was over and she left and I had only burned bridges to sleep upon the night.
That was a highlight of that crush. I never ate cockles again. Not from bitterness, just from... cockles.
During the course of some anecdote she was relating I happened to pick up on a word or two of what she was saying, purely by accident. It appeared she liked pickled cockles, not only liked but rhapsodised about them and particularly the gritty texture of sand objecting as tooth sundered flesh.
About a week passed and for the first time in my life I noticed that the local off-license sold pickled cockles. They may have sprung new-formed and novel over-night but I think they were always there and I just never noticed. I bagged a jar and somehow found myself positioned to bump into my delight as we supped prior to going our different debaucheries that night.
My plans were changed and abandoned as we shared that jar of pickled cockles. We laughed and teased, and touched and squeezed and then it was over and she left and I had only burned bridges to sleep upon the night.
That was a highlight of that crush. I never ate cockles again. Not from bitterness, just from... cockles.
