Flexing Those
Mussels
No recipes here, exactly, rather a process that shows
how starting with one ingredient cooked simply and just building piece by piece
and then making slight adjustments you can develop a range of tasty, and simple
to cook, dishes.
The turning of the month from August to September
always signals one thing to me immediately – there’s an “R” in the month! This
simple matter of spelling that, in the English language, we have a continuous
run of months – May, June, July, August – lacking the 18th letter of
the alphabet might not seem to have much significance at first. Until you
realise that this is when seafood, such as oysters and mussels come back into
season, having been left alone to breed undisturbed through the summer months.
For me this has a special significance as I live
happily close to a stretch of the North Sea that produces the finest mussels
I’ve tasted. I am unashamedly partisan in this. On the other side of the sea
the Belgians have understood this and celebrated the quality of their mussels
for centuries. I have eaten, and enjoyed, these succulent molluscs around the
world. The Pacific certainly produces wonderful, large, juicy, specimens. But,
you can’t match those shellfish that lurk in the shallow band of the North Sea between
East Anglia and Belgium. This is not a lagoon of clear, blue, sparkling water
but rather a murky marine soup, and there’s the whole point. It is that “murk”
that provides the mussels, along with other shellfish such as the famous Cromer
Crab, with the nutrients that develop a subtly sweet flesh that can’t be
matched anywhere else.
But, enough of my local pride. You may have guessed by
now that I am a great fan of the humble mussel. Wherever you live, you can
probably find very tasty mussels at least some of the year. I find it strange
how so many people seem daunted by the prospect of cooking mussels. It really
is very easy. Throw them in a pan with a little liquid and let them steam open.
All, seemingly more complex, recipes are just a few stages along from this
simple start. If you are concerned about poisoning yourself and others with
less than fresh examples, again it just takes one simple stage. If open, make
sure they close when given a sharp tap. If closed, make sure they open when
given a sharp tap, It means they are still alive. You can’t get any fresher
than that. Do discard any that don’t pass the test.
Here I have started with a method with steamed mussels
– a single instruction rather than a recipe – and then demonstrated how, by
building bit by bit, this develops into eight very straight forward, and quick
to cook, recipes.
To cook mussels, put them in a saucepan, add a splash
of boiling water straight from the kettle, cover with a lid for about three
minutes until all the mussels have opened. Discard any that refuse to open.
Now, rather than using plain water, try a splash of
dry white wine instead. As you’re using cold wine instead of boiled water this
will take a little longer, about 5 or 6 minutes. You could start things off by
softening some chopped shallots by very gently frying in butter for three
minutes, maybe add some crushed garlic for a minute before putting the mussels
and wine in the pan. Then finish with a little chopped parsley. So far, so
simple, but that’s it – you’ve just made moules
mariniere. For the creamy classic version moules mariniere a la crème, all you need to do is take the pan off
the heat and, when the liquid stops bubbling (this way the cream shouldn’t
split), stir in some double cream or crème fraiche. It really is that simple.
Beyond the classic version, there a whole range of
mussel dishes that can achieved by a few simple changes to the above.
Instead of wine, use dry cider. Now you’ve got moules Normandie.
Or rather than wine or
cider, use beer (ideally a Belgian blonde beer or a golden ale) and you’ve got
the Belgian classic moules flamande.
A typical Belgian trick is to use leek, sliced to roughly the same length as
the mussels and then into ribbons, instead of shallot. As the shells open, the
ribbons of leek drape themselves over the mollusc inside.
Moving on to something just a little more complex,
throw a shot of orange liquer into the pan before pouring in the wine, squeeze
the juice of half an orange on top of the wine and grate in the zest of the
same orange. Moules a la’orange.
You can travel all the way to South East Asia. In
addition to shallots and garlic, some grated ginger or galangal, chopped
lemongrass and chilli give you that taste of the orient. Coconut milk instead
of cream and coriander (cilantro) leaf replacing the parsley complete the
transition. I have eaten this in Thailand, but suspect the origin may be in
Vietnam, where colonial history often leads to French/Asian fusions.
Leave out the lemongrass, and instead use garam masala
for an Indian mussel curry. You could also add some cubes of white fish.
Starting with the most basic steamed open shells and
building up just a little, and with a few twists and tweaks, and you’ve got
eight delicious and simple mussel dishes to your repertoire. There’s nothing to
stop you using your own imagination and inventing another. Or adding other
seafood, or even replacing mussels completely with clams, cockles or whatever
shells end up on your fishmonger’s ice.
