Mussels: Taking the World by Storm
The quintessentially French moules marinière are unfailingly delicious, especially when a crusty baguette or fries are on hand to swab in the leek-heavy white wine broth. I guess it’s for that reason that it has rarely occurred to me to look for them any other way—why gild the lily?
But lately mussels have been popping up on menus everywhere I look in so many variations that I’m dissuaded from my marinière addiction. The new preparations highlight mussels’ versatility; far from being specific to the south of France, they’re a kind of miracle mollusk, a delectable canvas for endless renditions.
I’ve noticed elements of Thai cuisine surfacing on the menus of chefs who don’t necessarily specialize in the traditional fare but have fun with its vivacious flavors and value its holistic emphasis. Thai mussels feature a broth made rich from coconut milk, seasoned with the dynamic blend of ingredients that make Thai food as distinctively lovely as it is. Lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves lend a citrusy zing while red curry gives the fragile mussels a bit of heft. Fresh cilantro rounds the whole thing out, and if fortune is smiling on you, you may just find Thai basil in the bowl as well, imparting a dash of licorice flavor.
On the other end of the spectrum is a Latin influence characterized by juicy slices of spicy, smoky chorizo, a Spanish pork sausage. Crushed tomatoes complement the fresh seafood, and sometimes saffron is thrown in too. I love how the chorizo gives it so much substance; a bowl of this is so hearty that it needs nothing else.
In addition to the lengthy and tempting French-eclectic selections at Providence restaurant Red Stripe, an entire corner of the menu is devoted to mussels. Prince Edward Island mussels come in ten different preparations, either as a full portion with fries or a more modest half size. Mussels marinière are of course present, but so are Greek-inspired mussels, which are seasoned with coriander, fennel, lemon juice, and olive oil. Mussels Normande, with bacon, mushrooms, and calvados, also caught my eye. On my last visit, I got Red Stripe’s signature mussels, which have a beer- and pesto-based broth that’s good enough to drink alone as a soup.
Mussels’ adaptability has served well for less expected purposes, too. When the BP disaster hit the Gulf Coast early this summer, it put a chokehold on such staples as shrimp and oysters. The famous charbroiled oysters at Drago’s, a New Orleans institution, have since been jeopardized, but what’s interesting is how the restaurant has combated the shortage. They’ve tweaked the signature oyster recipe and adapted it to Canadian mussels, which have caught on so well among customers that they’ll remain on the menu even after Gulf oysters find their way back into the kitchen.
Through this inventiveness and resourcefulness, mussels are being discovered – or rediscovered – as a dynamic ingredient, not just limited to the preparation for which they are known. With influences ranging from the Iberian Peninsula to Southeast Asia to the Louisiana Gulf Coast, mussels are, quite literally, coming out of their shell.
Brava, Lovey! This is your auntie, and I loved reading your post, as always, even though I really do not like mussels at all. I do, however, enjoy the broth.
Wonderful article! I love mussels, especially stewed in witbier or served roasted on a skillet. Yum! I can't wait to see what other delicious posts you serve up :)
Can't wait to go out and buy some mussels now, great post.
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