Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Mussels are people too.

At the risk of sounding completely incompetent, am I the only one on this tiny ball of dust we call earth that didn't realize mussels were alive?! I mean, I knew they were alive at some point in time. They were alive with their little mussel family deep in the salty sea blanket of protection and life. They were alive with their little mussel boyfriends. They were alive with their little mussel mania conventions. They were alive. I get it.

I just thought that by the time they magically and humanly appeared in my local grocery store they would be dead and ready for consumption. Not.so.much. I preface the remainder of this murder confession, I mean, blog post by saying I am not a vegetarian by any means. I eat hamburgers, hot dogs and lord knows what else with the best of them. I do not cry when Wilber appears perfectly fried up on my breakfast platter next to my eggs Benedict nor do I shed tears when Mary's little lamb happens to be oh so scrumptious that she ends up nestled safely, warmly in my tiny tummy. However, I have never cooked anything that was technically still alive. Me no likey.

While carefully selecting my mussels on Sunday, the fish monger asked if I would be preparing the tiny children today. Since I already had a planned menu for that night, I told him my intention was to steam em on up Monday. He proceeded to bag, tag and hand over my small pound of noms and then told me to be sure I stored them in a bowl with a tiny bit of water and open lid so they can breathe until it is cooking time. Excuse me? They can breathe?!?!?

Ugh. I swear the entire time I was preparing my garlic, butter and wine sauce on the stove Horratio, Horris and the whole gang (clearly they had been named by that point) were looking at me. I had to place a towel over the bowl to get some privacy. And then apologized as I slipped them one by one into the pit of despair aka the sauce pan. Sigh. I am a murdered.

I ate 2. I assume it was my dear Horratio and Horris - the twins. And then I become so upset I had to stop and force the bf to stop as well. They were taken out to their final resting place soon thereafter. I hope they like the city provided trash bin. Moral of the story - Mussels are meant to be eaten at restaurants. Not at home. Write that down.

Good day.

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