I... Want... Mussels!

After last night's marital débâcle, over which I will draw a merciful curtain here, we settled down to have a nice peaceful evening tonight. Luckily, Dominic was very tired and, after a good dinner (sole and peas, otherwise known as "phfissss" and "pee") and a lovely bath in which he tried to give the new baby his soother via my navel, he went to sleep like an angel. He's just developed the habit of calling out to us to be tucked in when he's ready to actually sleep, and it's so funny. When we deposit him in his crib, he cries for a minute or two, then spends fifteen minutes or so rearranging his blankies and his soothers. Once he's dispensed with these formalities, he stands up and yells "Mama! Papa!" until one of us goes to hug him, lie him down, and tuck the big blanket around him. Then it's off to sleep for the next twelve hours. Needless to say, I am a little apprehensive about adding a new person, who will likely wake up every two hours, to the mix. I no longer have a choice, though, so we're signed up to hack through it again.

Now that I've gotten all that maternal suckiness out of my system, I can get to the point of this post, which was the recipe I have for mussels. I love it, because it's one of the very few recipes of mine that has a neat backstory (The other one is Creamed Lamb Brain with Peas, but you don't want to know, believe me).

My sister-in-law and her husband used to frequent a Belgian inn in Quebec City, and one day, they took Eric and I. The food was good, and the beer was excellent; I think they must have had about two hundred plus kinds, and they served us a different one with each course. Dessert was chocolate mousse over blueberries, and it was the most divine thing I had ever tasted. I said as much to the owner/cook, and she actually invited me to come in the next day, as she had to make more. That Saturday, I spent two hours in her kitchen, learning to make the mousse, a great tapioca pudding, and, best of all, mussels.

The quantities are not exact, but they don't have to be. The essential is that your ingredients be fresh, fresh, fresh. Also, you can add really any kind of flavouring to the base; she had at least seven flavours.

The base, what she called a mirepoix, was a mixture of finely chopped onion, leek, carrot, and celery. She added dried basil, but you could use almost any herb, depending on what you wanted the final flavour to be.

Chop the vegetables, about an equal amount of each, and put into a hot pan with a little olive oil. Stir. Once the veggies are coated, add some liquid (chicken broth, water, you name it) and cover. Sweat until soft.

If you're a purist, you now add the mussels, stir them until coated, add a little white wine, and cover. Steam until the mussels are open and have almost entirely detached themselves from the shells. Serve tout de suite with french fries, mayonnaise, and more white wine.

Tonight, I made tomato-basil mussels, because that's what I had. I followed the first steps, adding parsley, fresh basil, garlic and a pinch of salt to the mirepoix, and using beef broth because that's what I had leftover from the other night. When that was cooked, I added chopped tomatoes and simmered until the chunks had dissolved. Then, I added the mussels and more beef broth. While I was waiting for the mussels to cook and Eric to return with french fries, I mixed a little pesto into the mayonnaise.

Mmmm.. tasty. Tomorrow, I'll make a minestrone with the leftover broth and mirepoix, because I need a vegetable soup to give the in-laws. Plus, I'm cheap.