Mussels

Last week, having spent an exhausting morning in B&Q (the perils of being a landlady), then several hours unloading building materials, we decided, as it was a glorious afternoon and Getting Near the End of Summer, to make the most of the weather.

We headed down to Godrevy, my mum’s favourite beach as a child, to have a scamper along the beach and, as it was low tide, pick mussels. We were so lucky - it was a wonderfully hazy warm afternoon, there was a slight breeze and, not having been there for a while, the lighthouse is always stunning. In fact it’s got to be one of my favourite beaches, too.

There is a certain rock where large mussels grow that is only visible at low tide and we got there just in time, having had a wonderful walk over the dunes and onto the beach. Moll sheds her 9 years and becomes a puppy again, roaring over the golden flat sands with pure joy, ears streaming behind her. We picked several bags of mussels and then decided to stop at the Blue Anchor (a favourite pub) on the way home.

“Shall we have fish and chips?” said Mr B, tummy rumbling.
“We’ve got mussels,” I pointed out.
He was convinced I was going to give him food poisoning (which he’s had before from mussels) but after a pint of Middle was prepared to give it a go. I checked with Mel (my cooking advisor) just to make sure, and we soon made a meal of steamed mussels, with a white wine, garlic and coconut sauce served with noodles, peppers and prawns.

The mussels were so fresh you could taste the sweetness and the sea, and it was one of the more memorable meals I’ve had. And neither of us got food poisoning.

Just as well. I would never have heard the end of it.