Why I Live in New England

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Don’t think The Angry Piper can cook? Well, you’re wrong. I’m about to bust out one of my all-time favorite recipes for summer. I made it last night, in fact.

We’re spoiled here in New England. We have the best seafood in the country, hands-down. Sure—you folks in the Pacific Northwest have your geoducks, your Alaskan king crab and your salmon. You folks on the Gulf Coast have your grouper, shrimp and crawfish. Doesn’t matter. New England is the place to be if you want really great seafood. Our fish form the elite snobbery of the culinary world.

You still arguing? Two words for you, snapperhead: “Maine Lobster”. Bam!

Now, I’m really spoiled, because not only do I live in New England, I happen to live next to the biggest commercial fishing port in the United States. Growing up, I was half-jokingly referred to as “The Seagull” by my father; because like my namesake, I would descend upon any tasty seafood and devour it noisily, as well as aggressively defend my prize against any and all who would seek to share. (Of course, seagulls will eat pretty much anything, so it wasn’t really a flattering or cool name, but whatever.) In fact, there are only two things in the entire ocean I do not care for: octopus and oysters. Octopus is a popular dish in the mostly Portuguese community where I live; yet despite having eaten it many different ways I just can’t like it. It’s a texture thing. Oysters, to me, taste and look and feel like snot. I had my first oyster in an outdoor café in Paris, while gazing at the Eiffel Tower at night. It was a Hemingway moment—until I gagged and hawked that vile oyster onto the sidewalk, much to the disgust and chagrin of the (predominantly French) café patrons.

But on to the recipe, which requires another kind of shellfish: the lowly mussel.

I love mussels. They’re plentiful year-round, cheap as hell, and quick and easy to cook. And they taste awesome, especially if you follow the recipe below. I know about 10 different ways to make mussels, but this recipe is my favorite.

Start with two lbs. of mussels. Although that sounds like a lot, remember most of the mussels’ weight is in their shells, which you don’t eat. I prefer Prince Edward Island mussels, if available, because they’re smaller and more flavorful, but any mussels will do. The mussels should smell faintly of the ocean. Don’t be a choad and buy mussels that are dry and stink like the docks at low tide.

As any of you who have read my blog know, The Angry Piper hates facial hair, and mussels are no exception. Clean and de-beard the mussels by scrubbing their shells with a stiff brush. Then THROW AWAY any mussels that don’t close when you smack the shells with the back of a knife; these are dead. There are many things you don’t want to get in this life, and trust me, shellfish poisoning is high on the list. Unless, of course, you enjoy uncontrollable vomiting and shitting. Then, by all means, cook and eat the dead ones.

Next, melt half a stick of butter in a stock pot or deep saucepan that’s large enough to accommodate all your mussels. Sauté at least 6 cloves of freshly-chopped garlic (I use more), until it’s soft. Next, add 1 cup of cherry tomatoes, sliced in half, and one bell pepper, also finely sliced, and cook for 2 minutes or so. Add 1 tsp. of garlic powder, 1 tsp. of dried red pepper flakes, and 1 Tbsp. of pepper juice (skim the top liquid of a jar of crushed red pepper). Stir well, and cook until the pan is very hot (about 1-2 minutes).

Next, add your mussels and give them a good stir to coat them with the sauce. Cover and simmer for about 3-4 minutes, until the shells open. Then add ½ cup or so of good white wine—don’t be a loser and use shitty supermarket cooking wine or your mussels will taste like it. Make sure you wait until the shells open so the mussels best take the flavor of the wine. Stir them again and cover, cooking them for another 2 minutes or so until they’re falling out of their shells.

To serve: ladle a generous portion into a bowl and cover with the sauce. Throw out any mussels that didn’t open (see “uncontrollable vomiting and shitting”, above). Serve with crusty bread to mop up all the juices, and compliment the meal with a bottle of the cold, white wine of your choice (I prefer Sauvignon Blanc) or a light beer (like Corona). I’ve been known to put away 2 lbs. of mussels (and a couple of bottles of wine) by myself, so if you have a lot of guests, increase the recipe.

I make this about once a week in the summer. It would be a great dish to make for an outdoor get-together at Dr. Murk’s palatial estate.

Too bad he’s dead.