A Bag of Mussels
An esteemed reader told me his partner was a bivalve vegan after reading my first newsletter on spaghetti aglio e olio, before exclaiming “so perfecting that pasta to then add clams or mussels to is great!”
I’ve had many aspirations in sharing these newsletters, but chief among them was ensuring excellent spousal relations, so thank you esteemed reader. What might surprise you and others to know is that I too was once a “bivalve vegan” and have a particular fondness for the mussel, which I will now share a few words on; quickly like the manner in which they are cooked, and with the knowledge that this will not be the last time they are discussed nor consumed.
I once announced I was a bivalve vegan to a table (with people sitting at it) and before I could finish my sentence was interrupted by the proclamation “that is the most pretentious thing I have ever heard!”
I then attempted to repost, but was exposed immediately to a damning barrage of attacks on the wankyness of the phrase (perhaps irrefutable) and the privilege associated with it, and in the face of such skilful debate, I retreated into my shell (typical mollusc behaviour).
However it is I - not them - who sudden has an audience today, and with it would like to mount the defence I was denied that evening and finally put my mind to rest after years of toing and froing in bed, reliving the snappy remarks I would’ve made if only I’d been braver and smarter.
The truth is that eating bivalves is not pretentious, nor wanky, but simply brilliant; for you, your spouse (or wooing a spouse), the planet and the seas.
The thing about mussels is that they grow on rope. ON ROPE. That’s all they need; that and our sewage, which they clean up for us. They don’t need water, insecticides or fertilisers and they only have one neuron, so scientific consensus is this feeble amount of ganglia cannot give rise to sentience. For these reasons I consider them a vegetarian option; “frutti di mare” in their truest form, and we’d all do better to eat more of them.
But enough talk of politics, let us dine.
Mussels are delicious and contrary to common thought, very simple and quick to prepare. I have never food poisoned anyone with them and I am not particularly careful nor hygienic (too much information?). Also please forget all that nonsense about which months are supposedly correct for eating shellfish because all these mussels are farmed now and regulated up the yazoo.
So if we are no longer intimidated by their supposed poisons, we next must dispel the myth of arduous preparation. To clean mussels you simply drop a handful in the sink from a height of ~40cm and then - one by one, but moving quickly - check if it has closed (if it doesn’t close or if it is broken, discard it). Then rinse briefly, remove the beard (if there is one, farmed mussels are usually quite clean already) and put in a bowl. Repeat with another handful and so on until you are done.
Whatever time you spend labouring over their cleaning, you will earn back double in their hasty preparation. There are many techniques for cooking mussels, but all of them quick and often made with common bits and bobs that are usually at hand. They invariably and wisely start with garlic, for “it is not really an exaggeration” as the French old timer Marcel Boulestin noted, “to say that peace and happiness begin geographically, where garlic is used in cooking.”
The simplest effort would be to poach some chopped garlic with some parsley stems (and a smidge of chilli if you’re in the mood) for a few minutes in good olive oil, then add the mussels and a glug of wine, put the lid on and wait a few minutes until they have opened. One pot, quick, cheap and now with wine to wash it down; what a Friday night dinner that is! There’s a festivity in eating each mussel only to discard its shell into a clinking pile, each time like a Greek at a wedding smashing their dirty plate.
No wonder Rick Stein declared moules mariniere would be his last meal.
There’s of course not enough time today to list all their preparations, so if we are to pick one recipe I thought it would be nice to build on the last newsletter and prove again the versatility of “il sugo.”
Cozze alla tarantina
This is a classic Puglian preparation, where at heart we concoct a tomato sauce and chuck a bag of mussels into it. It makes use of the wonderful things they have at hand in Puglia; oil, tomatoes and perhaps the world’s best mussels (sushi chefs often import them all the way to Japan).
The Scottish rope grown mussels available to us will more than suffice however, so buy a kilo, open up a bottle of wine for the cooking and make sure to pour yourself a glass as it all bubbles away.
Ingredients (for 2 or 3 as a main, perhaps 6 as a starter - depends how greedy you are)
1kg mussels
50ml Olive oil
1/2 glass white wine
500g tomatoes (I mean but who’s measuring?)
A clove or two of garlic
1 fresh chilli
Parsley (or basil)
I’ve listed ingredient quantities above, but I believe mussels don’t often lend themselves to exact measures. You should feel at ease, pouring oil and wine and throwing herbs as you feel fit… happy in the knowledge that no two occasions will be the same and it would be truly tough to go wrong.
With that noted, here are the steps using the above:
Score tomatoes on top and bottom and blanch in boiling water until the skin starts to crack. Drain and cool in cold water. Peel then crush by hand and set aside. This was all covered in greater detail in “Il Sugo” newsletter, alternatively you can skip these steps and just open a tin of peeled plum tomatoes.
Pour oil into a big pan with a lid that will fit the mussels, then add garlic, a few parsley stems and the chilli and cook together on low heat for a few minutes until the garlic has taken on a little colour.
Add the tomatoes and a pinch of salt, turn up the heat to medium-high and cook for 5-10 minutes until they have reduced and look extremely appetising.
Turn the heat to high, throw in the mussels and the wine, put the lid on and wait for about 4 minutes before opening the lid again. If they are largely open, take off heat (they say to discard the closed ones, but I’m not sure you need to), throw in a handful of chopped parsley and serve immediately with big pieces of bread for spoons.
And I promised myself this time that I wouldn’t mention pasta, but… yes of course you can bloody chuck some cooked pasta into this!