Issue #98: Mussels Memory
Bopping around Benelux, I Want Mussels, Two Recipes to Make Mussels at Home
We’ve been bopping around the Benelux region for a little more than a week now—driving around Belgium and the Netherlands, with a detour to Champagne. I wrote about the wonderful waffles of Liège last week. The tulips of Keukenhof were breathtaking. The town of Gouda was as charming as the cheese was delicious. (The stroopwafels were also amazing.) Utrecht was a pleasant surprise. And, of course, we ate and drank very well in Reims and Epernay. Monday we hopped on a train from Brussels to Paris because, well, why not? It takes just a little more than an hour to get from here to there. Hard to be so close and not say, Bonjour! I started writing this week’s newsletter aboard the Thalys express.
This week’s guest on my What’s Burning podcast is Glenn Roberts, the impressive and inspiring force behind Anson Mills, a pioneer of the heirloom grain movement in the United States and around the world. Have a listen here. What’s Burning is produced by Jewish National Fund USA and the Galilee Culinary Institute’s Rosenfeld School of Culinary Arts. I hope you enjoy it. —Mitchell
The first time I visited Belgium was in 1990, while I was backpacking around Europe after my junior year studying abroad in Paris. My contemporaries will recognize the scene: Eurail Pass in hand, youth hostel reservations made by pay phone from the train station upon arrival, a torn-up copy of Let’s Go! Europe in my day pack. We joked the whole time about writing a guidebook called “We Went: Here’s What You Really Need to Know.” (Little did I know that I would end up writing restaurant reviews for guidebooks for years afterwards.) All of this was before cell phones, email, social media, and the Euro.
Let’s Go! highly recommended a visit to Bruges, which they said was known as the “Venice of Belgium.” I had never heard of Bruges, but Venice blew my mind, so we went. Bruges is not Venice, but it is indeed lovely. In addition to the canals, the romantic bridges, the lively pedestrian historic center, one thing I remember about that first visit was the mussels. Moules frites, to be more specific, mussels with French fries. We stopped in some random place with a seat outside on the square. And while it wasn’t Venice, those mussels blew my mind, too.
As I’ve mentioned before, between my freshman and sophomore years of college I worked in a popular bistro in Toronto. Steamed mussels were often on the menu, classically prepared, with leeks, white wine, and a bit of butter. They seemed exotic to me at the time. I can’t say that I loved them, but I loved the idea of them. Cooking them made me feel like a real chef; eating them, a grown up. But to my taste, those mussels had a muddy flavor that I came to associate with mussels in general.
But in Bruges, that first time, the mussels I ordered were different. Half the size of the ones back home, plump and sweet tasting, they had none of the funk I came to think of as the taste of mussels. I realized in that moment that I had never had a fresh mussel in my life. And I devoured a full two pounds of them on that square in Bruges with enthusiasm. It helped that they were cheap and we were traveling around on a tight budget. And the fries were great, too.
A little more than a decade later, I was back in Bruges with my sister. We were competing in the Gay Games in Amsterdam, where we were staying for a couple of weeks. We took a brief break from the festivities, rented a car, and road tripped to Belgium, returning to Bruges because of my fond memories of mussels. Again, they were delicious.
Another two decades have passed, and this week I found myself back in Bruges with my husband Nate and our friend Elia, who has been living in Brussels for three years and whose car was the chariot for our journey. We booked dinner at Poules Moules, a restaurant known for both mussels and chicken, as the name suggests, located in a centuries-old building on a quaint square. To be honest, their mussels were not as good as I remembered. The funk was back and the anise flavor of Pernod overwhelmed everything. By contrast, Nate, not a mussel lover, loved his chicken vol au vent, a saucy bird in a rich velouté served in puff pastry he likened to a French pot pie. But we were happy to be back in Bruges, nonetheless.
This week I offer you two different recipes for mussels, so you can make your own at home. I will say they are cheap and quick and yet somehow still special feeling, provided you can find fresh mussels—the hardest part. The rest is easy. Your mussels should be small, alive, tightly closed (or quick to close after a poke), and free of any funk. The ones I recently purchased at Eataly to test these recipes were farmed in Canada and they were quite fresh, in fact, fresher than those I had last week in Bruges.
TECHNIQUE: Selecting and Cleaning Mussels
Most mussels you will find these days are farmed and pretty well cleaned before you get them. To prepare them to cook, first remove any mussels that are opened and that don’t close when you pinch or poke them, which means they are dead and are best not consumed. Rinse those that are closed tight under cold water and if you see any thread sticking out, the “beard,” tug on it firmly to remove. Set the cleaned mussels in a colander to drain and keep in the fridge until ready to use.
RECIPE: Moules Marinières
The classic. You can add herbs, cream, or anything you like to finish the cooking liquid at the end. Some chopped fennel would be welcome. The proportions can be doubled to serve more, but be sure to increase the size of the pot proportionately so the mussels cook evenly and quickly. A wok works well, too.
(Serves 1 to 2)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small shallot, thinly sliced
1 small leek, white part only, thinly sliced
Salt
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 small hot pepper, minced, or pinch chili flakes (optional)
2 bay leaves
1 cup white wine
1 tablespoon Pernod, Ricard, or pinch fennel seed (optional)
1 pound mussels, cleaned (see above)
2 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter
Freshly ground black pepper
In a wide saucepan or Dutch oven with a tight fitting lid, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the shallot, leek, and a pinch of salt, and sauté until soft and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic, hot pepper, if using, and bay leaves, and continue cooking until the garlic is soft and fragrant, another 2 or 3 minutes or so. Turn up the heat to high and add the wine and Pernod, if using. When the mixture is rapidly boiling, add the mussels, cover the pan, and let cook for a few minutes, shaking the pan occasionally to move the mussels around. After 2 or 3 minutes, peak under the cover to see if all the shells have opened. If not, re-cover and keep cooking another minute or so until they are.
Uncover the pot and, using tongs, a spider, or a large slotted spoon, remove the opened mussels from the pot to a bowl, keeping the liquid in the pan boiling away. Allow the liquid to reduce for a couple of minutes. Then, using a small whisk, whisk in the cold butter. Add a grind or two of black pepperand return the mussels to the pan and cover to reheat, about 1 minute or so. Dump the mussels into a large serving bowl, pouring the cooking liquid and all the good stuff all over them. Serve with plenty of bread to soak up the liquid.
RECIPE: Moules Thailandaises
A fragrant, spicy variation that’s delicious served with some jasmine rice onto which you should spoon the cooking liquid.
(Serves 1 to 2)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small shallot, thinly sliced
1 small leek, thinly sliced
Salt
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 to 2 tablespoons Thai red curry paste, depending on your heat tolerance
1 makrut lime leaf
1 cup coconut milk
1 pound mussels, cleaned (see above)
1 tablespoon Thai fish sauce
Pinch sugar
Juice of 1/2 lime, plus additional wedges for garnish
In a wide saucepan or Dutch oven with a tight fitting lid, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the shallot, leek, and a pinch of salt and sauté until soft and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic and continue cooking until the garlic is soft and everything begins to brown slightly, another 2 or 3 minutes or so. Add the red curry paste and makrut lime leaf and cook another minute or two until fragrant. Turn up the heat to high and add the coconut milk. When the mixture is rapidly boiling, add the mussels, cover the pan, and let cook for a few of minutes, shaking the pan occasionally to move the mussels around. After 2 or 3 minutes, peak under the cover to see if all the shells have opened. If not, re-cover and keep cooking another minute or so until they are.
Uncover the pot and, using tongs, a spider, or a large slotted spoon, remove the opened mussels from the pot to a bowl, keeping the liquid in the pan boiling away. Allow the liquid to reduce for a minute or two. Then, stir in the fish sauce, sugar, and lime juice. Taste and adjust the seasoning. If your coconut milk was quite think, you may want to thin down the mixture with a little water or stock so that it is more soupy. Return the mussels to the pan and cover to reheat, about 1 minute or so. Dump the mussels into a large serving bowl, pouring the cooking liquid and all the good stuff over the top. Serve with jasmine rice.
About the Frites
In Belgium and elsewhere, a large pot of steamed moules is often served with a large plate of frites. I wrote about Jeffrey Steingarten’s easy technique for making crisp fries that has you starting the potatoes in cold oil in Issue #37 (February 2, 2022). Though not the traditional Belgian technique of twice frying the potatoes you see in friteries around the country, I think this cold-oil technique produces very fine results with little fuss. Give it a try.
thanks, Mitchell--I think I was last in Belgium in 1958 and I honestly can't say I remember a thing but your posts have certainly brought the place to life. I must repair my neglect, clearly!