Messy Mussel Sunday

Sitting at our high-top dinner table, with wine coated fingers flinging potent drops of mussel juice about the table; he said, “We love making a mess, don’t we!?” And for once, my not-so-articulate boyfriend had said the words to properly sum up our cooking adventures.

Yet another Sunday evening food adventure, resulting in kitchen catastrophe. Two pounds of mussels and half a pound of grouper in the fridge, and with an interview looming on my mind, I was looking for anything to distract me. Thus, what led me to a number of websites searching for an authentic moules Mariniere recipe.

Never having been able to successfully make mussels and pomme frites that tasted anything close to the paper baskets that filled my hands while in France, I attempted another try. I’m embarrassed at how surprisingly easy it is to achieve the true flavors. The secret and key ingredient to this recipe, which is considered to be a blue-collared dish in France, is shallots. We had a few rotting in the back of the fridge, a quick clean-up adding two garlic cloves and a chop through the Cuisinart, the mixture was added to melting butter that soon turned in to a fragrantly steaming pot of heaven. I knew that I had done something right, continuing with the addition of about half a bottle of wine, bringing to a boil, tossing in the mussels, another splash of wine on top and closing my pot of cold mussels. Meanwhile mixing my garlic and butter in the Cuisinart for yet another loaf of garlic bread, this one a bit more traditional and simple than last weeks, and keeping my fingers crossed that the ingredients were welding together in a fury of white wine steam. Keeping my paws busy elsewhere- I turned around to the most delightful surprise on my stove! I didn’t think that such simple steps could yield such beauty, however when I saw the shells opened wide, exposing the delicately swollen and plump mussels, I knew that finally, I had done something right. Mentioning this because the fear of failure that evidently looms in the atmosphere of a testing kitchen, when other options for dinner are not readily available- rather unexplainable to an unhappy boyfriend—is a consequence that I sometimes face. But, with my fathers words in mind, “you can’t go wrong with butter and garlic,” I continued in confidence.

Using a slotted spoon to drain the mussels out of the pot, keeping the heat on, in order to plop two nice pieces of grouper in the mussel broth. These too, were steamed and puckered up when ready to be eaten. Placing the fish on top of the bowl of mussels, pouring the entire pan of wine broth, steaming that heavenly scent, signaling that dinner was served. By now, my garlic bread was just about to burn- I always seem to catch it close! Tearing the hot loaf into three hunks and inserting them around the edges of the bowl, their tips sitting in the broth, soaking up the juices. Now, had I had the ingredient, adding handfuls of freshly chopped Italian flat parsley along the way, had made for not only a colorful splash, but also a tasty addition. Having lacked that, I have to say that it was just fine without.

Ten steamy minutes later, our table was a mess, and with one look in to the kitchen, Chris made his comment. Making a mess in a relationship may be inevitable, but making it together in our kitchen has only made us stronger- and our bellies more satisfied!