I find myself daydreaming about England when the weather is shit. Usually about activities I’d consider boring and mundane if I did them here, like waking up to a cup of tea to help with cottonmouth or walking down a narrow street bathed in neon light from strip clubs. But things are delightfully foreign and yet so familiar over there. I could never live in London though. I’d miss pizza/bagels/halal/Mexicans/dental care too much.
There was this cozy little gastropub nestled on a corner of Portobello Road where I had moules marinières after a few drinks. It might have been the alcohol or the fact that I hadn’t really eaten all day, but those mussels were on point. There was a rush of blood to the head as the heavens parted and the angels flew down to serenade me as I shoved mussels into my face to prolong the mouthgasm.
Must have been really drunk.
Moules Marinières (mussels in cream sauce)
2lb. mussels 2 shallots, finely chopped 2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped 1/2 stick of butter 1/2 c dry white wine 1/2 c heavy cream 1 bouquet garni (thyme, rosemary, sage, tarragon) Chopped parsley leaves to garnish Crusty bread to serve
Wash and get all the messy crap attached to the mussels off in cold water. Throw out any mussels that have cracked open or won’t close when you squeeze them. Dead mussels are definitely no bueno here.
In a large pan, soften the shallots and garlic in butter. Add bouquet garni. When things start to smell good, dump in all of the mussels. Pour in white wine (I used the Pinot that’s been in the fridge for almost a year) and let it steam for a few minutes until it looks like dozens of little vaginas staring at you from the pan. Discard any that remain closed.
Remove bouquet garni. Don’t try to reuse it. Pour in the cream and give the pan a quick toss.
Serve with parsley and crusty bread (I prefer ciabatta). Disregard all forms of table etiquette and dig in with your hands. Food tastes better when you eat like a starving barbarian.