No one enjoys a bowl full of mussels more than I do, I have consumed millions of the things (well, almost).
One evening, many years ago, my wife and I had just been seated at a small brassier on the left bank when the waiter placed a large bowl full of mussels in front of me. He knew very well that I had not yet placed an order; he was simply, intentionally provoking our stunned neighbor for whom this order was intended. The hungry patron next to us looked upon our table and his order of mussels with a curious expression of mollusk deprivation and bewilderment. Our waiter briefly watched in silence, the human culinary torment developing, until finally our neighbor demanded the rightful dispatch of his mussels to his table. With a sly grin, the waiter complied making hollow apologies. You see, waiters can be mischievous.
I thought to myself, wow, I want to try some of those little creatures for myself. And that’s how it all started.
Every time I order mussels I think of that waiter, with unbridled gratitude.
The best for mussels in Paris? Some like Leon de Bruxelles but for me, just find a brasserie on the left bank, sit yourself at a small table on the terrace, order a bottle of dry white wine (I prefer Picpoul de Pinet) and hopefully you’ll be greeted by a spunky waiter.
