BY MICHAEL DEVLIN
AS comforting as the most soothing bowl of chicken soup ever created and yet at the same time as tantalising and as sophisticated as the finest freshly prepared sushi, there exists at this time of the year, a dish of such heavenly delight, it's almost dangerous. The main problem is, however, everyone seems to have forgotten about it.
Garnering a bad rep from people who don't know any better, mussels are often regarded as poor man's shellfish. Granted they're plentiful and cheap but with the right preparation and a bit of imagination, the little slate-coloured bullets are arguably better than oysters or even scallops.
In the wild, mussels grow on coastline rocks and stony outcrops although they are also farmed off suitable coastal waters. Scottish waters are exemplary for mussels to develop and mature and, indeed, have quite a long and illustrious history with the Scottish peasantry. It was even commonplace for fishwives to offer them as street food, setting up little stalls selling the bountiful harvest in saucers with a little cooking soup. Nowadays, chefs go a little further in helping the average mussel attain a certain culinary level but the idea is still the same.
Along the leafy lanes of Tyrone (or bare-treed lanes at this time of the year), you might as well suggest bear as a seasonal delicacy rather than mussels. A mere hour away from the brine-tinted air and you'd think it was light years into the future – or the past. We appear to have abandoned the humble mussel in favour of other Johnny-come-latelys, namely tiger prawns and the imported masses.
And the best of it is, if you have a taste for the little balls of seaside taste, you can even pick them up at the seaside for nothing – especially at this time of the year as they will soon be in season. Though be warned (arrr!): If you do collect your own mussels, make sure the waters are unpolluted (check for floating brownies) and avoid hunting for them in the warmer weather as mussels are only in season where there is an 'r' in the month.
There are many different ways to cook the mussel from baking to steaming to roasting, you only have to look at any online cooking resource to see that there's literally hundreds of recipes to chose from.
Say what you like about them but the French generally know how to cook and their quintessential method for mussels is Moules Mariniere. Classic, simple and infinitely tasty. And the best news is, it couldn't be simpler.
Often bags of mussels in a supermarket or fishmongers come in 1kg sizes so that's the one I'll give you the recipe for. It's easily enough for a main course for two people but I find they're like Pringles... once you pop.
INGREDIENTS
Ikg (slightly over 2 pounds) fresh mussels
Big knob of butter
Little knob of butter
Half a glass of white wine
2 spring onions, chopped (you could also use a couple of shallots or at a pinch, even an onion)
100 ml (or there abouts) double cream
1 tbsp chopped parsley and/or chives
1 clove of garlic (optional). I once left this out by mistake and quite liked the resulting freshness).
1 bay leaf
LE PLAN D'ACTION
Rinse the mussels in running water and get rid of any beardy stuff or any that are open. Heat the big knob of butter in a large pan. When it's foaming add the spring onions or shallots or whatever (and the garlic if you're using it) and the bay leaf and cook gently until the onions are soft.
Turn the heat up to high, bang in the mussels and wine and cover. Cook flat out for two to three minutes or until the mussels have opened – keep an eye on them and give the pan the odd shake from time to time to help it along.
After that, strain the mussels, keeping the cooking liquor but binning any of the little fellas that haven't opened.
Return the cooking juices to the pan, add the little knob of butter, the cream and the herbs and bring to the simmer.
To finish, pour the tasty broth over the mussels and serve with crusty bread and a pint of stout (or even a glass of white wine).
Utterly lethal. You'll even be tempted to eat the shells.
