Cream of Mussel Soup

The only time I had Billi Bi was many years ago at Le Refuge, a French Restaurant in Old Town, Alexandria. It was a rich dish, redolent of saffron and, clearly, thickened with egg yolk. I loved it. Not so much the veal kidneys that completed the meal.

This recipe for Billy By is a far cry from the mussel soup I had long ago. Yes, it IS delicious. Maybe even more so. And it is rich because it has cream (although I have cut the cream in half from the original recipe). But it is not cloying, and since I only served two, I had enough of the broth left over that I thought about poaching shrimp in it the next day. I imagine it would also be good for braising rice.

I didn't serve any crackers with it, but they would have been welcome. What I most wanted to eat with it were Pepperidge Farm Goldfish - but they are like potato chips - too dangerous for me to have in the house. This is a recipe for homemade goldfish crackers from Smitten Kitchen I have long wanted to try. Now I really have a reason to go for it.

Why You Should Eat Mussels

According to Francis Lam, "They're cheap, they're tasty, they are actually good for the environment, and they're infinitely variable."

Keep mussels in the refrigerator for no more than two days. Do not store them in water because fresh water will kill them. When you are ready to cook, put them in a large bowl, add plenty of water, swish around, and drain. Do this about three times. Then wash them quickly, using a cloth on the shells. They aren't gritty like clams so this should be easy. If any have a "beard," pull on it to extend it out from the shell as far as you can, and snip it off with kitchen shears. That's it; you're ready to go.

Cream of Mussel Soup

Potage Billy By

Adapted from The Art of Eating Cookbook by Edward Behr

Serves 4

1 large onion or 2 shallots, chopped

1 stalk celery, peeled and chopped

3 or 4 branches fresh parsley

1/3 bay leaf

3 or 4 branches fresh thyme

1-1/2 cups dry white wine

2 pounds mussels, cleaned

1 cup heavy cream (the original recipe calls for 2 cups of cream)

Black pepper

A lemon to juice

Salt, only if necessary

Put the white wine in a pot large enough to contain all the mussels. Add the onion, celery, parsley, bay leaf, and thyme. Turn the heat to medium, and cook gently (you don't want to boil away the wine) until the onion and celery are soft, five to ten minutes.

Raise the heat to high, add the cleaned mussels, and cover the pot tightly. It will take from 2 to 8 minutes for the mussels to open. After 2 minutes, stir the mussels, and start removing the open ones (with their shells) when half have opened so the open ones don't overcook while the rest are opening. After 8 minutes, discard any mussels that have remained unopened. Once all the mussels are open and removed from the pot, take the cooked mussels from their shells, and set aside.

Strain the broth. A fine metal strainer should do the job, but if the broth has any grit left in it, strain it again through a cloth-lined strainer or a coffee filter.

Wash the pot or use a smaller clean one, and put the strained broth in it. Bring the broth to a boil, add the cream, and bring back to a boil, stirring. Let it cook for 2 to 3 minutes to thicken just a little, then add the shelled mussels, and heat them through for about 30 seconds. At this point, you do not want to overcook them.

Add black pepper and a little lemon juice. Start with about a teaspoon of lemon juice, and add another teaspoon if that's not enough to brighten the taste. Serve immediately.

Print recipe.

Ten Years Later

I could not bring myself to watch the September 11th memorial services downtown, just three blocks from where I work. And I never want to reward the terrorists and re-live September 11th all over again each year. But this is the Tenth Anniversary, and it is impossible to remain passive today.

When we moved to our new office from West Chelsea at the end of October last year, I came across a file. In it was a copy of The New Yorker published on September 24, 2001, with a copy of an email I sent to a friend in California in response to his question how was I doing and what was New York like. I decided I would post it on this sad anniversary in a world that remains forever changed.

October 10, 2001, 3:33 a.m.

Hey, Friend,

Here we are, already four weeks later. I guess I have so much to say; it's hard to distill it all.

I had a lot of trouble sleeping the first two weeks, and I am still having bad dreams that wake me up. All of us here talk about it, talk about it, talk about it. Of course, the first day we were in the daze of horror. Then we were propelled by the adrenaline that gets you through the shock. We were all stopping each other in the street, "Are you okay?" which had a new and twisted meaning, being stunned all over again when you got the wrong answer, "I took my nephew's dental records to the family center because my sister just couldn't do it." "We're okay, but my girls lost five friends. You know, all these thirty year olds." Can you imagine, friend, all these young people your son's age? Then the good answers. "No, we're okay, and so are our friends. We all work in midtown." That was always good news - "We work in midtown. Our friends work in midtown. Our kids work in midtown." By the third week the total surprise was gone. Now the chilling realization has hit that "life as we know it is over" is not a sound byte. It's the real deal. The Holland Tunnel is still closed. Trucks and vans in and out of the City are stopped for inspection. And instead of its being a pain, it's a comfort. Yes, okay. We'll wait. Check it out. The National Guard is at the airport and on some street corners. Police are everywhere, and people stop at the firehouses, which are surrounded by bouquets of flowers and thank-you notes, to say hello and shake hands and drop off homemade cookies and have their little children meet real heroes. While we were eating lunch in our conference room yesterday, a plane flew over so loud and so low and so close, we all just stopped everything - talking, eating, chewing, swallowing - and looked at each other. When the noise faded, we said, "Oh, F16." Then the architect who designed our space stopped by and told us that the FBI has taken over a lot of space in a building right near our office to set up headquarters - he says now it's the safest neighborhood. People consider safety issues. Do I have comfortable shoes handy in case I need them? What will happen next? Is there anything I used to do that I shouldn't do now? But what I notice, again and again, is it's not fear that drives us. It's sadness. Sadness for those people lost, those families changed, our city brutalized, and the extreme sadness that a person in this century can inspire so much hatred that he can call for the annihilation of a group of people - the Americans, the United States - and summon a response.

As I sit at my computer at work, I look out the window at the Empire State Building. We left last night in the dark, and it's lit up Red/White/Blue. A girl who works with us was walking with us, and she said "Oh look how pretty the Empire State Building looks." She is right, and now it is amazing to see. There is a certain time of day, before sunset, when the sun somehow reflects a certain way, and our office all of a sudden has a golden glow. The light bounces off of windows outside and shines all over, and our space just shimmers. It is a beautiful time of day, somehow serene and peaceful, and it's a good time for me to stop, reflect, and in my own way say a little prayer and think how glad I am to be here.

I, like you, don't know how this will all play out and wonder and worry. So far, the response seems to be with clear thinking, planning, determination, and restraint. What I do know is that I have a different and revised appreciation for what my mother saw as an adolescent and young adult in wartime England. She spent most of her teenage nights sleeping in air-raid shelters. One of her classmates ran into a phone booth during an air raid and died when the booth crashed around her. Her mother, my grandmother who I never knew, went into the house to make everyone a cup of tea, leaving the protection of the back yard shelter, and died from implosion when a bomb fell on the house next door. My mother's next door neighbor's severed head, still in his air raid warden's helmut, was outside when she left the house one morning. One night, sheltered with a friend in the Underground in Liverpool, my mother's girlfriend had to pee, and there was no place to go; however, there was an empty Scotch bottle lying against the wall, which she used as a urinal. They left, and when they came back, discovered someone had stolen the bottle, leaving them helpless with laughter! I wonder, if she were alive, what my mother would think of all that's going on now.

You and I, we're from the "Hell, no, we won't go" generation and have never experienced these personal feelings of patriotism before. It's not like seeing the movie or reading the book The Right Stuff and feeling warm and fuzzy. To me, what everybody, especially those in the Arab world - to whom it probably came as quite a shock - learned on September 11th from those people whose plane crashed in Pennsylvania was that young, "indulgent" Americans also have some things they are willing to die for -- and do it with only minutes to think about it and plan it, not years and without the promise of 72 virgins waiting for them in Paradise.

A friend of mine told me that he has a friend whose son is in the Service on board a ship. His captain said they had received a request from the captain of a German ship in their area to arrange a rendezvous of both ships. So they pulled alongside the German ship, where everyone on board, in full military regalia, stood and sang The Star Spangled Banner. Stories like that make me cry.

Six paragraphs long,

Victoria

French Apple Cake

In two weeks’ time, I’m going to spend the afternoon with my childhood best friend. We haven’t seen each other in - I hate to say how long - 42 years, if I’m counting correctly. We’ve been able to keep track of each other all these years because our parents were friends. In fact, when my dad died in 2006, Sharyn’s father sat next to me at the funeral, holding my hand.

I have lots of memories of Sharyn - her bronze patent leather Capezios for Easter Sunday; her New Year’s Eve birthday; trick or treating in the snow after an early winter storm; taking tap dancing lessons together. I never pick up a jar of Kosciusko Mustard without thinking of her because I remember how much she liked it.

The big question now is where should we go to lunch?

We can’t go to Pearl Oyster Bar. Sharyn’s from Maine, so taking her to a restaurant in New York City that is modeled after a Maine lobster shack would be rather ridiculous, even if Rebecca Charles’s salt crusted shrimp is one of the best things to eat in the world.

Should we go to The Four Seasons because it’s fancy? Swifty’s because Jane recommended it? Brio because the Italian food is so good tourists from Italy eat there? Girasole because it’s in my neighborhood? The Lincoln because it’s hot? The Lexington Candy Shop with its old fashioned soda fountain because it’s fun?

Ah ha. The Trustee’s Dining Room at The Metropolitan Museum.

The food is excellent, the room is comfortable, the view is lovely, and we can talk without interruption. After lunch if it’s a nasty day, we can wander around the Museum; if it’s nice, the Park.

Then we can go back to my apartment and have a cup of tea (everybody drinks tea, right?) and a piece of this plain, not-too-sweet but lovely cake before Sharyn meets Doug for a dinner where he is the guest speaker.

This cake is just the ticket for a restorative afternoon snack. It’s adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan - the creator of World Peace Cookies, which, I believe, would get democrats and republicans working together if someone would just make a lot of them and lug them to Congress.

World Peace Cookies

French Apple Cake
Adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan

¾ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt
4 large apples - 4 different kinds are best because you can have crisp, soft, sweet, and tart
2 large eggs
¾ cup sugar
3 tablespoons dark rum - I use Goslings Black Seal
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ pound unsalted butter, melted and cooled (1 American stick)
Softened butter for coating the cake pan

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Butter an 8-inch springform pan.

In a small bowl stir the flour, baking powder, and salt together with a fork.

Peel the apples. Cut them in half, and cut four large pieces off around the apple, leaving just the cores, which you will discard. I find this easier than using an apple corer. Cut the pieces into chunks, about an inch big. A little larger than an inch is fine.

Break the eggs into a large bowl, and beat them with a whisk until they foam a little. Add the sugar, whisk to blend, then whisk in the rum and vanilla. Add half the flour and whisk until incorporated, then whisk in half the melted butter. Repeat this step by whisking in the other half of the flour followed by the rest of the melted butter, and mix until the batter is smooth and thick. Using a rubber or silicone spatula, fold in the apples, turning until the fruit is coated with batter. You will find there are more apples than batter; this is how it’s supposed to be.

Scrape the mixture into the buttered springform pan, and spread it around with the spatula until it’s as even as you can get it. It won’t be perfect because there are so many apples.

Put a piece of parchment on a baking sheet - I use a half sheet pan - and put the springform pan on it. Slide the baking sheet with the springform pan on it into the oven. Bake until the top of the cake is golden brown and a knife or cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. This will take about 50 to 60 minutes.

Transfer the cake to a cooling rack, and leave it for 5 minutes.

Run a blunt knife around the edge of the cake. This should be easy as the cake will probably have already pulled away from the sides of the pan, but still be sure to open the springform pan slowly to make sure no apples have stuck to the sides.

It may be eaten warm or at room temperature and is particularly delicious with some lightly whipped cream with a little sugar and rum in it. The cake should keep well for 2 days, but do not cover it. You can put a strip of wax paper on the cut ends.

Print recipe.