Simple Mussels

Last weekend was all about food, so here’s another food post.

I didn’t really want to post this because the accompanying picture is quite ugly because I have an inability to frame and arrange a nice shot when there’s food waiting for me to consume.

Anyway, I digress. Mussels, yes. They are scientifically classified as bivalve molluscs, which means they have two symmetrical shells joined by a hinge. Mussels exist in both marine and freshwater varieties. They are filter feeders, and dine on free-floating plankton by drawing water in from its incurrent siphon, passing it through their tummies then purging the waste after.

Too scientific? Yes, I think so too. End of my Animal Planet segment.

What’s important when buying mussels (and I guess all seafood) is freshness. The mussels should still be alive when you buy it. If you mussel is closed, that’s a good sign. It’s a reflex thing for the mussel to clam up (pun intended) when its removed from it’s habitat, and they should be sealed very shut. If you find a mussel that opened its doors to enjoy the breeze, give it a sharp tap with your finger or another mussel and it should slam shut. If it doesn’t, its deader than dog shit. Discard.

Take your mussels home. You now need to wash it. Scrub it clean under running water and pull out the beard that sticks out from the mussel. This is called the Byssus, and it helps the mussel attach itself to its under water surroundings. It’s gross and reminds me of a very used tampon string. Yank it off and throw it away.

Now to cook.

For the simplest, most basic recipe, you’ll need the following:

Mussels
1 wine glass of white wine
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 sprig of fresh thyme (or a bunch of parsley)

Start with a pot that has a tight-fitting lid, add some olive oil and saute the onions over medium heat followed by garlic. In this order because garlic burns very easily and becomes bitter, having the onion first helps to distribute the heat that could blacken your garlic when you’re not looking.

When onions are slightly brown, turn the heat up and throw in your mussels and thyme. Give it a quick stir to distribute the onions. Try and coat the mussels with onions as much as possible. Then pour in the wine and cover.

With oven gloves, give the whole pot a shake every few minutes or so just to move the mussels around. Once the mussels open up, they’re ready to eat. If any remain shut, they’re deader than dog shit too. Discard. But careful not to overcook, if not it’ll turn leathery. Scoop the mussels out with your slotted spoon and you’re left with the lovely broth left behind. It should be a little watery but full of flavor. I whacked in dollop of butter, and left it over high heat to cook off some of the liquid, just to intensify the flavor.

In the meantime, warm some bread and set your table. After a few minutes, the broth should have thickened a little. Check seasoning and pour over mussels to serve. Eat with your hands, and use the warm bread to mop up all the juices.

Once you mastered this, the possibilities to improvise are endless. You can add in a chopped, deseeded chili for a fiery bite. Or you could throw in some bashed lemongrass and thicken the broth with coconut milk for a Thai inspired version. Or even an Italian version, cooking it in homemade tomato sauce.

Enjoy.