You tip mussels into a wide pot with white wine, shallot and a knob of butter, clap on the lid, and four or five minutes later you have a bowl of open shells and a liquor you will fight over. Parsley at the end. You eat with your hands; the first shell is the pincer.
This is Atlantic cooking, Breton and Vendéen. Muscadet in the pot and in the glass is the rule of the Loire-Atlantique — the wine that grew up beside the beds. Marinière means the sailor's way: almost nothing, done quickly.
Discard any mussel that stays shut. Serve at once, with a baguette, while the liquor is still roaring. The bread is not optional; the broth is the best of it.
Method
- 01
Scrub the mussels under cold water and pull the beards firmly toward the hinge. Discard any that stay open when you tap them — they were already gone — and any with cracked shells. A little grit left on the shell will end up in the broth, so be thorough. You will thank yourself when you drink the liquor.
- 02
Melt the butter in a wide pot — wide, so the mussels cook in as near a single layer as possible — and soften the shallots for 2 minutes, until they are translucent and smell sweet. Pour in the wine, add the thyme and bay, and bring it to a rolling boil. The steam that rises should smell of Muscadet and onion, which is to say of the Atlantic coast.
- 03
Tip in the mussels, clap on the lid, and shake the pot over high heat until they open, 4 to 5 minutes. You will hear them rattle and then go quiet as they yield. Lift the lid once to check, then discard any that remain stubbornly shut. Four or five minutes is enough; any longer and they toughen.
- 04
Stir through the chopped parsley and a generous grinding of pepper — no salt; the mussels have brought their own. Serve at once in deep bowls, with the liquor poured over and a baguette for mopping. You eat with your hands; the first shell is the pincer. The bread is not optional; the broth is the best of it.
