The Dinner Files

The fishmonger at Lund’s grocery store in Minneapolis did not want to sell these mussels to my mom. She tried to buy them a week earlier and arrived up north at the cabin only to report that the guy wouldn’t sell them to her if she wasn’t going to cook them that same day.

WTF? I mean, ideally, yes, you eat any shellfish two seconds after you take it from the sea, but you don’t have to. Bivalves, in particular, tend to close themselves up and can hang out for a bit before things get ugly. Plus, you can tell when mussels aren’t good anymore – either they are open and won’t close before you cook them or they won’t open when you do cook them. Either way, things are clear.

I asked Mom to go back, to not involve him in the schedule, to slyly ask how often they got fresh mussels into the store and when the mussels she was buying had arrived, and to please bring me some mussels (my love of mussels is long-standing and pure) – I would worry about whether they were good or not.

It ends up Lund’s gets mussels in everyday. That means the mussels I grilled on Friday night, that my mom bought Thursday afternoon, had most likely been out of the water for less than 48 hours.

My dad lit the grill. I picked over the mussels. We threw them on the hot grill and took them off as they were ready. My dad, my dashing husband, my son, and I proceeded to eat them one after the other as they came off the grill, happily burning our fingers on the hot shells. I insisted on grinding fresh black pepper over them as they cooked, but I’ll admit it was gilding the lily just a bit.

And my mom, who so nicely ran the mussels maze on my behalf? She doesn’t care for shellfish. Even mussels, hot of the grill.

Grilled mussels

The recipe for grilled mussels is this: put mussels on a hot grill and cook until they open up and are cooked to your liking. “Your liking” can cover anything from those who like their mussels barely cooked – still tenderly raw and soft – to those who prefer to leave them on the grill until they get almost smoked, their meat condensed and the edges almost crisp. Experiment, taste, and see what you like best. How many should you grill? That depends on how many you want to eat. About 1/2 pound per person makes a nice little snack. If they are the main event, however, you’ll want closer to 2 pounds each.

Wow. I made it through the holidays without too much gastrointesinal damage. I deem such a lack of a negative a great success! I have some fun Christmas-y things to tell you about, but for now let me recommend mussels. Steamed mussels. We had them last night for dinner before headed to a New Year’s/birthday party. You’ve had steamed mussels, I’m sure. Unfortunately, way too many of you have only had them swimming in an undercooked soup of white wine. There is a better way.

The first time I had steamed mussels is one of my first food memories. You know the kind. The kind people wax poetic about in “memoir” and personal essays. The kind that try to describe the ripe sun-warm tomato bitten into fresh off the vine in grandpa’s garden, that kind of thing. Well, no one in my family really gardened, so I’m left out of that party. What I do have, however, is a road trip to Washington State – the Olympic Peninsula to be exact – when I was 7? 8? My mom drove out with me and my younger brother playing Neil Diamond in the cassette recorder all the way and getting pulled over for some *crazy* level of speeding in Wyoming? Montana? My brother cried in the back seat asking if she was going to jail. My dad met us in Spokane, where lived (and still live) my aunt and uncle. I helped pick strawberries in the yard and presented them, complete with cream, to great praise. We drove west, eventually visiting my dad’s high school friend who lived with his French wife near Sequim, Washington. (You know the song “Please Come to Boston?” My brother and I can still crack each other up by earnestly singing “please come to sequim” – I know, I know, I’m getting off track, stay with me!) The grown-ups went crabbing and left us kids to pick mussels off rocks at the beach. In my memory the adults came up empty, so that night they grilled salmon, basting it with beer, and steamed the mussels my brother and I had harvested in white wine. I am sure some of these details are wrong, or at least skewed a bit. But what I do remember terribly clearly is that I was blown away. The mussels were so meaty and briney and savory and good. Their shells were so pretty – dark purple and black with that slight mother-of-pearl sheen to the inside. The wild mussels were small yet plump and seemed both alien and precious.

And then there was the broth. Sweet, briney from the mussels’ own juices, with a brisk acidity from the wine, and plenty of earthy soften sharpness from the well-cooked onions and garlic. White wine was used, yes, but most of its was cooked off first, saving the mussels from drowning. The mussels gave off enough of their own liquid to make plenty of aromatic soup to soak up with chunks of bread.

So those were my ideal. In France I’d often encounter them cooked just that way, but not always. And in the States more often than not I find the broth undercooked, overwined, and one dimensional.

When I was a poor student in Paris – and that’s the only way I’ve ever lived there (perhaps I should try it another way, huh?) – steamed mussels were a regular treat. Cheap, easy, delicious, and perfect for the kind of small, casual dinner parties I’d have (as well as do-able in the small, casual kitchens I usually had access to, even the ones without an oven, just a stove-top). I believe I figured out a decent method and added my “secret” ingredient – chiles or red pepper flakes. I wrote it up over at Local Foods.

p.s. Speaking of Local Foods, I’m starting a grand project in 2009: a state a week. If you have any great info about local food in your area – farmers markets, u-picks, spots for regional specialties, food festivals, anything and everything – please let me know at molly@thedinnerfiles.com.