Mussels
22 February 07
One day back when I was a small child, my family and I were collecting mussels on a muddy beach somewhere in the west of Ireland. Engrossed in our task and the thoughts of the wonderful meal ahead, we didn’t notice that the tide was coming in and that the sand was getting wetter and less solid. By the time the alarm was raised I found myself knee deep in quicksand and unable to free my legs. Dad was the only one with any mobility left and had to dash desperately around the beach rescuing us all one by one, leaving wellies stuck in the sand behind us.
It always amazes me then that I have absolutely no negative feelings of any kind about mussels, in fact if they’re on a menu I find it almost impossible not to order them. And the salty smell of an enormously large pot of freshly picked mussels boiling on the cooker is probably unmatchable. I might go so far as to say that the quicksand was worth it. I can’t remember if the mussels were saved. I hope so.