East Meets West

As I happened to actually get some sleep last night, I woke up on time and in an affable mood.  I also happened to know that tonight would be a little on the cold and drippy side, as far as the weather was concerned.  To remedy this, I figured that I would stop by Findlay Market to pick up some shellfish and have something in a nice broth for the evening's chilly weather.  I picked out the Clams Provencal on page 323 and the Gingered Mussels, also on page 323. 

First up this evening was the Gingered Mussels, which would serve as the appetizer.



A few notes about shellfish.  First, sort through them and start weeding out bad ones.  Good shellfish should be closed, but occasionally one will be open in an attempt for oxygen.  Sometimes, however, one is open because it is dead.  To tell the difference, give the open shell a tap.  For example:

This mussel is clearly dead.  It did not respond at all.  It is best to throw this one away.  Next up:

This one responded well to the "attack" and closed on its own.  This one is safe.  After sorting through all of the mussels, I mixed the broth (once again, I had to double the recipe) and prepped the ginger and scallions.  Everything went into the aluminum pan that would go on the grill.

The next step was to cover it with aluminum foil.  This would trap the moisture and steam the mussels with the broth. 

I checked the mussels after the recommended time, and most were not open enough.  Mussels go through two stages of opening, the first where the bi-valve angle is about twenty to thirty degees.   At the second stage, when the mussel is ready, the angle increases beyond a forty-five degree angle.  I gave them an additional three minutes, and at this point they were ready.  I plated (really bowled) them, and we had our first course.

This was amazing.  I love mussels, but have always done a bit of a Belgain-style, mostly because of a trip to an amazing Belgian mussels and beer bar in D.C.  This was a nice change of pace with flavors from the opposite side of the planet.  As I was prepping the second course, The Bride came into the kitchen to return the bowl, which was quite empty and dry.  She even finished off the "soup" that the broth created.  I scarfed mine down in less than five minutes, dunking each mussel into that broth, which really could not have been much easier. 

From there I began assembling the second course, the Clams Provencal.

The procedure was primarily the same: create the broth, check the shellfish for dead soldiers, and assemble everything in the pan. 

Like the mussels, they required a longer grilling time than what was suggested, but once most had opened, I pulled them off the grill.

Although the recipe doesn't state it, I decided that it would be a good idea to serve this on a nice bed of linguine.  I placed the noodles on the plate, picked out the clams that were done, and ladled on the sauce/broth.  Some, however, did not open, and THESE SHOULD NOT BE PLATED!

Seriously, just throw this away.  This goes for the mussels, as well.  Plate the opened ones, and get ready for some deliciousness.

What a wonderful plate of cold-night-remedy.  As I stated to The Bride, this was quite slurpable.  It was a nice call on my behalf to add the linquine.  The Bride, who really isn't much of a fan of clams, even said, "Yeah...so this will totally be a craving later on."  It was clean, fresh-tasting, and loaded with flavor.  Not that I've ever been there (but it is certainly a goal to do so) but this reminded me of what I think of when I think of Provence.  It was nice to have most of the fresh herbs come from my garden; they added a nice touch.  In all, this dish had a broad spectrum of flavors, all with amazing depth.  This was classic Provence: simple, fresh, and down-to-earth.  It's a keeper.