Mollusks with Muscle

I grew up landlocked in Colorado, without ever seeing or eating fresh mussels. Maybe that’s why they hold a certain mystique for me. When I first moved west and visited Venice Beach, I loaded up on the dark, blue-black shells lined in pearly white. Over the years, the collective results of my beach-walking turned shelf corners and tabletops into free-form shrines to Neptune.

The prospect of cooking mussels seemed more than a little formidable, made all the more daunting by the restrictions in an old “Joy of Cooking.” There was soaking to remove grit, and a feeding of cornmeal to plump the creatures up and encourage them to spit out sand. Debearding--I had not a clue what a mussel’s beard might look like--involved yanking with needle-nose pliers. It all seemed beyond my limited aquacultural skills until a memorable meal last year changed my mind.

To celebrate their new apartment, Maggi and her husband-to-be Paul gamely pulled kitchen implements out of boxes and cooked an impromptu feast. I was astonished when she carried in the main course: a shallow, steaming casserole heaped with mussels, their orange flesh a gorgeous contrast to the black shells. Furniture was at a minimum, so the four of us pulled cushions around the coffee table and served ourselves from one steaming bowl. Tearing a chunk of bread from a sourdough loaf and dipping it into the rich, briny broth at the bottom of the platter, Maggi prompted us to do the same.

The chill of the fall evening slipped away as we one by one dunked our bread into the communal liquid, greedily snatching up the open shells with our fingers and popping the delicate morsels into our mouths with forks. The warmth of sharing seemed to infuse our conversation as we lingered, talking and laughing, until the last drop was gone.

Later, I learned that mussels couldn’t be easier to prepare. The farmed mussels you buy at a fish market require no soaking, minimal scrubbing (a thorough rinse under cold water is fine) and almost no debearding. In a couple pounds of mussels, you might find a few with beards--they’re short, white fibrous tangles that extend from the shell--which can be either trimmed or tugged out with pliers. Keep in mind that mussels are alive, and it’s best to buy them close to the time you plan to cook them. Use only mussels that are tightly closed or that close when you press the shells together lightly, and keep them cool.

Mussels cook in minutes and can be delicious simply steamed in water with some wine, garlic and fresh herbs. One of my favorite versions was created by my friend Tom King, a chef who cooked at many of the Angeli restaurants in Los Angeles. Cream and pancetta make it wonderfully rich, and it’s perfect with a grassy white wine. As for serving, I recommend making a communal event of the dish, with the guarantee that the evening will shine as surely as the inside of a mussel shell.

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TOM KING’S AUTUMN MUSSELS

Serves 4

4 ounces pancetta, chopped

1/2 small red onion, cut into small dices

4 large cloves garlic, chopped

Zest of 1/2 small lemon (reserve fruit)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 tablespoon toasted cumin seed, ground

3 dozen mussels, Prince Edward Island mussels recommended

1 tablespoon green peppercorns

1/2 cup white wine

Juice of 1 small lemon

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup chopped flat parsley

1/4 cup toasted bread crumbs

Chopped chives

In 4 1/2-quart pot or large, deep skillet, saute pancetta, onion, garlic and lemon zest in olive oil over medium heat until fat of pancetta is rendered and onions are translucent. Add cumin and stir well.

Add mussels and peppercorns and saute until mussels just open. Immediately remove mussels to serving dish with slotted spoon. (Overcooking toughens the flesh.) When all mussels have been removed, turn heat to high and add white wine to pot, stirring well. Boil a couple of minutes to evaporate alcohol. Add lemon juice, then add cream and continue to boil until liquid is reduced by a third. Add butter and incorporate fully into sauce. Remove sauce from heat. Stir in parsley.

Pour sauce over mussels and sprinkle with bread crumbs and chives.

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Food stylist: Christine Anthony-Masterson