Mussels from Provence to Pondicherry
"An obvious consequence of the seafaring nature of colonialism, this has also given these places a cuisine laden with ingredients from the sea. It is lovely to see how iridescent fish, mussels and crayfish can be common to all these places but arrive at the table as ambassadors to their nation. Flambéed in rum, steeped in saffron or a splash of coconut cream - the result is a dish true to its homeland, and yet undeniably tied to another nation." Tess Kiros
This is book number two of my Christmas bounty and I have to confess it was one I chose myself from Readings' wonderful bargain table. They actually had another one by the same author called Venezia and I am so delighted by this one that I might go back and get that too.
I wonder does everyone collect something? Obviously I can't stop myself collecting cookery books. And throughout my life I have collected things with varying degrees of intensity and I know that almost everyone around me collects something. Even if that collection is just stored on their hard drive. My husband. for example, collects screws and nails and tools it seems to me. He probably wouldn't see it that way. I can't quite believe that he actually needs all of them. As I don't need all my cookery books. At one time, when I made all my own clothes - and I did for very many years - I collected bits of material. I could not resist going into material shops and if I went in I could not resist buying a piece of material. In the end I gave my large bag of oddments to the daughter of a good friend when she was struggling with young children. Does anybody make their own clothes these days? And when we went to New Zealand a few years ago we met the cousin of our friends with whom we were travelling and she collected all manner of stuff. The house was full of it - all beautifully displayed. Some people collect antiques, stamps, cars - a neighbour has just build a huge carport to house his collection and when I walk into Eltham I pass a very modest little house, which nevertheless seems to have at least three Jaguars. It must be in the human genome - the need to collect - and why would we have that need? Personally I think it is a food thing - the need to store things through the long winter or a period of drought when food is in short supply. Or a way of storing memories in artefacts. Maybe that's it. Things that remind you of the people who have gone or the experiences and emotions that have passed. I saw a barbed wire collection once!
But I digress.
So Provence to Pondicherry by Tessa Kiros. She is half Finnish and half Greek/Cypriot but spent her formative years in South Africa. At the age of 18 she started to travel - England, Mexico, Australia ... did a degree in anthropology and sociology and eventually met and lived (lives?) with an Italian. I assume she still does and in Italy. She doesn't really say where she lives - but close to France. The book was published in England though. So a very multicultural background - and her books reflect that.
I guess this particular book - her latest - is all about fusion cuisine and how it is all so much older than the foodies might like to think. Today we are consciously creating dishes that are fusions of different cuisines, but in the past these things just happened gradually over time. Jamie Oliver demonstrated that in his wonderful tome on British food - not just the old fusion but the new ones too - like all those English/Indian dishes. And in this book Tessa Kiros sets out to document the influence the French had on their colonies' food - although in spite of there being two chapters on the parts of France that sent out the colonisers - Provence and Normandy - there seems to be very little in the dishes in those recipes that comes from the colonies. In fact the French do not really seem to have absorbed much from their colonies apart from couscous, although on their borders they merge with the cuisine of their neighbours. She is also very specific about the parts of the colonies that she has chosen to represent. Nothing on the South Pacific for example - maybe because I am living in Australia I am particularly conscious of this. I have visited New Caledonia in the past which is very French. The natives there seemed to all speak French. And Tahiti too. The Pacific may not be world famous for its food, but they do have sufficient specialities to warrant a mention you would think. Canada, Mauritius, Laos, Cambodia ... The French even had a foothold in China and Singapore for a while I believe. And what about Africa? Large chunks of Africa are still French or recently French - well sort of - aren't they? (Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Cameroons ...)
Luke Nguyen' book France is a book that does demonstrate the deliberate fusion of two disparate cuisines. He has three recipes for mussels, two of which are basically French and one which has a very strong Thai influence, in his chapter on Normandy and Brittany. And I do remember a most wonderful restaurant called Chinois here in Melbourne that was fusion food at its best - Chinese and French in that instance.
But I quibble. This is a lovely book with interesting recipes from Provence, Guadeloupe, Vietnam, Pondicherry, La Réunion and Normandy - and every section, without fail, begins with a recipe for mussels. Now I won't be cooking these because my husband doesn't like mussels. I have only tried to cook them once - in a cookery class I attended here in Melbourne long ago - and I stuffed it up. Though I blame that on the teacher who wasn't very attentive to his students. There are lots of shellfish you could choose to represent - prawns for example, but I don't think there was a single recipe for prawns. Scallops and oysters I remember but not prawns. And fish of various kinds. But she must like mussels. So to give you a taste of the book here are her six recipes. Some of the pictures are not really of the actual dish as there are not pictures for every dish in this book and only two of the mussel dishes have pictures.
I'm not at all sure that any of the dishes demonstrate any kind of fusion at all. Perhaps the addition of cream to the Pondicherry and La Réunion dishes, and maybe these and the Guadeloupe dish have less heat than they might otherwise have, but otherwise not a lot of cross-fertilisation. Which is interesting in itself I guess. Independent French and independent colonised.
So here goes:
MOULES AU PISTOU (for 2)
The picture is not from the book, so I'm not sure whether it would really look like this. It's somebody else's version of moules au pistou.
1.2kg mussels
2 tbs olive oil
1 garlic clove, peeled
185ml tomato passata
60ml white wine
a few stems of parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the pistou
1 garlic clove, roughly chopped
a handful basil leaves
2 tbs olive oil
De-beard the mussels, then scrub them with a brush under cold running water, discarding any that are open and don't close when tapped sharply on the kitchen counter.
Heat the olive oil and garlic together in a small saucepan and when the garlic starts to smell good, add the tomato and a grind or two of black pepper. Cover and simmer for about 5 minutes, then remove from the heat and keep warm.
To make the pistou, put the garlic and basil in blender of food processor. Pulse, adding the oil gradually. Season with a. grinding of peeper and just a dash of salt (the mussels will be salty).
Heat a large, wide pan over a high heat and tip in the cleaned mussels. Add the wine and parsley, cover and cook until the mussels open up. Remove from the heat and discard any that have not opened. Holding the mussels back with a slotted spoon, pour about 125ml of the cooking liquid into a bowl.
Add the tomato sauce with the saved liquid to the mussel pot. Return to the heat for a minute or so, turning through gently with a large spoon, to mingle the flavours.
Spoon into wide bowls and dollop a generous tablespoon or so of pistou over each. Before eating, mix the pistou through the mussels and tomato sauce.
MOULES FRITES A FRUIT A PAIN (For 3)
Picture from the book. Recipe from Guadeloupe
1.5kg mussels
2 tbsp sunflower oil
50g mild, sweet chillies, sliced
1/4 spring onion, including some green, sliced
1tbsp chopped chives
2 garlic cloves, chopped
a few thyme sprigs, leaves stripped
2 tbsp chopped parsley
juice of 1 lime
freshly ground black pepper
To serve
2 small hot chillies, halved
lime wedges
Breadfruit fries - I have not included the recipe for these here. Not sure you can get breadfruit.
De-beard the mussels and scrub them under cold running water. Give each one a sharp tap on the work surface and discard any that stay open. Keep them in a bowl of cold water until you are ready to cook (but not too long in advance).
Put the oil into a large saucepan. Add the chillies, spring onions and chives and sauté for a few minutes. Add the garlic, thyme and parsley. When it smells good, drain the mussels and add to the pan. Put the lid on and cook over a high heat until all the mussels open up. Pour in the lime juice, give a good grinding of black peeper (no salt) and turn through with a spoon or put the lid on and rock the pan to distribute the flavours.
Divide the mussels with sauce between 3 large, wide bowls. Rest a chilli half in the broth of each bowl. Serve with breadfruit fries and lie wedges for squeezing.
MUSSELS WITH CHILLI, LIME, LEMONGRASS AND COCONUT (for 3)
Vietnam - a web picture guess
1.5kg mussels
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 spring onions, including green, finely sliced lengthways
2 lemongrass stalks, 1 (inner part only) chopped, the other cut into 3 lengths
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 heaped tsp brown sugar
1 scant tbsp fish sauce
juice of 1/2 lime, plus extra for serving
125ml coconut cream
small handful coriander sprigs, leaves and stalks separated
freshly ground black pepper
Prepare the mussels as in other recipes.
Heat the oil in a large wok and sauté the spring onions quickly over a high heat. Add all the lemongrass, garlic and chillies and sauté briefly. Stir in the sugar, fish sauce and lime juice, then add the coconut cream and let it bubble up for a minute.
Heat a large saucepan and add the mussels and coriander stalks. Put the lid on tightly and steam over a high heat for a couple of minutes until the shell have opened. Leaving the juices in the pan, transfer the mussels to the coconut sauce.
Strain about 125ml of the cooking juices through a fine sieve, over the mussels. Heat quickly, turning the mussels through so the flavours can mingle. Squeeze in extra lime juice to taste.
Add the coriander leaves with some pepper. Serve at once in large individual bowls.
MUSSELS WITH MASALA (for 3)
Pondicherry - picture from the net
1.5 kg mussels
2 tbsp sesame oil
1/4 tsp black mustard seeds
1/4 tsp cumin seeds
2 tsp garlic and ginger paste
2 small green chillies, finely chopped
5 or 6 fresh curry leaves
2 tsp garam masala
200g ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped
1 tbsp cream
2 tbsp shredded coriander leaves.
Prepare mussels as before. Keep them in a bowl of cold water until you are ready to cook, but don't leave it too long.
Heat the oil in a wide pan large enough to hold all the mussels. Add the mustard and cumin seeds and, when they start to splutter, stir in the garlic and ginger paste and the green chillies. Tear in the curry leaves and sauté for a couple of minutes until it smells good, taking care that nothing burns.
Add the masala, stir through and then add the tomatoes with 125ml water. Bring to the boil then simmer over a low heat, covered for about 5 minutes to break the tomatoes down. Sir in the cream (no seasoning needed) and let it bubble up for a moment before removing from the heat. Keep warm.
Drain the mussels and tip them into a large frying pan over a high heat. Put the lid on and steam until they open. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the opened ones to the sauce. Give any unopened ones a second chance over the heat, but if they still don't open, discard them.
Strain the mussel liquor in the frying pan into a jug, avoiding any sand or grit on the bottom. Add 185ml to the mussels and sauce, increase the heat to high and turn the mussels through quickly so they all catch some of the sauce.
Scatter in the coriander and serve immediately, with lemon pickle.
MOULES AU COMBAVA (for 3)
La Réunion - picture from net and I'm not at all sure it is anything like the dish described here. Makrut limes (combava) are kaffir limes.
1.5kg mussels
1 tbsp vegetable oil
50g sliced spring onion, white and green part
250ml cream
a pinch of finely chopped hot green chilli
1 generous tsp finely grated makrut lime zest
freshly ground black pepper
Prepare mussels and keep in water until ready to use.
Heat the oil in a small pan. Add the spring onion and sauté gently for a couple of minutes until softened. Add the cream and let it bubble up for a moment. Add the chilli and lime zest and simmer gently for a minute, but don't let it thicken. Take off the heat and set aside to infuse.
Put the mussels into a large cooking pot, cover with a. tight-fitting lid and cook over a high heat until they all open up. Give those that are closed a second chance, but then discard them if they don't open.
Pour the mussel juices from the pot into a jug, holding the mussels back with lid. Add the cream sauce to the mussels with just a couple of tablespoons of the mussel broth and heat through quickly, mixing through to mingle the flavours as it heats.
Add a good grinding of black pepper, and serve at once, with a spoon for the sauce.
MOULES AU CIDRE (for 3)
From Normandy with a picture from the book.
1.5kg mussels
250 ml cider
125 ml cream
25g butter
50g leeks, thinly sliced, rinsed
40g celery stalks, sliced into roughly 2cm chunks
1 tbsp chopped parsley
freshly ground black pepper
Prepare mussels and keep in water until needed.
Put the cider into a smallish heavy-based pan and simmer vigorously for about 10 minutes so that it reduces by half.
Add the cream to the pan and simmer for another 5 minutes or until it has reduced by about a third to a thick and glossy sauce (you should have about 170ml).
Meanwhile, melt the butter over a medium heat in a wide, heavy-based pan that has a lid and will hold all your mussels. Add the leeks and celery and sauté for a few minutes, leaving the celery with some crunch.
Add the drained mussels, put the lid on and cook over a high heat until all the mussels have opened. Remove from the heat then discard those that have not opened.
Strain the mussel broth into a jug, holding the mussels back with the help of the saucepan lid and leaving them in the pan. Add about 125ml of the mussel broth to the cider and the cream sauce and simmer for a minute.
Pour the sauce over the mussels, give a grind of black pepper, add the parsley and heat through together for a minute, turning through well to mix the mussels with the sauce.
Serve immediately with another grinding of black pepper and a bowl of fries on the side.
