Loving to be by the seaside is all very well as long as one is not a crustacean. Being beside the sea is as much fun for them as being under the sea would be for us. How is it that I, an apologist for preserving the life of creatures, don’t give a fig for the lot of les fruits de mer? Maybe my conscience would be easier if I named all cloven hoofed creatures as les fruits des champs, allowing me to tuck into a fruit pie of beef and ale or a light Charlotte d’Agneau. I treasure the irrationality of advancing years that allows me to rejoice in tearing off the heads and legs of one genre of creatures whilst being distraught by the demise of another. I confess that if the crustacean head and leg ripping involved arterial spray I might have to opt for scrambled eggs.
“I’ve often seen families of sixteen people, or more, seated at a long table on the terrace of a restaurant. Parents, grand parents, children, grand children, uncles and aunts are all there. The group will be enjoying aperitifs of Pastis or Kir or any one of the aromatic drinks beloved by the French, such as Lillet. There is a sense of anticipation. Waiters appear carrying large round metal dishes brimming with fresh sea food. and carefully place them on the metal support frames which are already in position. Critical eyes are quickly appraising quality and quantity. The waiters continue to place small white china bowls of mayonnaise, with which to anoint the crabs and langoustines, or in which to dip the whelks. There are also the shallow bowls of red wine vinegar and sliced shallot for the oysters. Chilled Muscadet, Sancerre or Charentais white wine will be poured into waiting glasses. Butter, which only makes rare appearances on a French dining table, is liberally daubed on slices of dark rye bread. There is laughter and chatter; the scene is set. Hands reach out to take their first choice of oyster, crab or langoustine and suddenly a sense of concentration pervades the gathering. Eating, and most importantly, enjoying seafood entails having certain manual skills. The ability to remove every edible part from a crab needs determination, and a clear knowledge of the beast. Which parts are to be discarded, and which to be savoured between asides to neighbours and sips of chilled wine. Releasing an oyster from its anchorage in the shell without reducing it into a grey mush, adding a spoonful of vinegar shallot condiment and raising the brimming shell to your lips for the final moment is another tour de main. Corks studded with thick pins are placed at strategic places around the table. These will be wielded like tiny rapiers to extract the”bigorneaux” from their shiny black convoluted shells. Bulots need a vigorous twist of the pin to remove them from their shell, before dipping them into a swirl of mayonnaise. More courageous souls will be using small spoons to carefully lift out the the perfumed orange flesh from black spiked sea urchins. This theatre is acted out in near silence. Mouths are full and minds are locked into the problems of separating the delicious morsels from their submarine armour. The once immaculately laid table is now scattered with the detritus of cracked claws and empty shells, surmounted by crumpled napkins. Strange implements, which are uncannily similar to surgical tools, protrude from the ruins of cracked pink shells, that were once crabs. The silence is now broken as animated conversation breaks out between the group. Here is the opportunity to talk about family before confronting the taxing decisions concerning cheese and dessert. There’s a long afternoon ahead.” Extract from my book “Simply Fed” which is available as an e book
You manage to make a messy, gluttonous scene sound romantically lovely.
That’s what messy, gluttony is all about:)
You’re going to make a stew out of Charlotte? Don’t look Charlotte. Don’t look! You are lucky she can’t read yet. At least you won’t tear her head off, that WOULD be messy. c
I’m sorry – I hadn’t thought of the shush sisters. That would be a seriously big pudding:)
I had a chat to Pania and Tui about your fat peahen recipes. I said you would send me pictures if they did not clean up their act. They were very well behaved today and did not try to slow down cars by waddling in front of them all the way down the drive, or chase kittens or look in the windows of the bathroom. c
I’m glad they’ve seen sense. Saves so much unpleasantness:)
Beautiful langoustines! This post reminds me of a restaurant that I visited in Seattle last summer… It did not take me long to figure out that the butcher paper covering the tables was there for a functional reason. Dungeness crab and other locally caught crustaceans were served directly on the paper along with mallets, crackers and little metal picks. Deliciously messy.
That sounds fantastic….I’ve always had a yen to visit Seattle, as long as it doesn’t rain as much as it does in “The KIlling”.
In my opinion, Seattle is one of the most beautiful of the major cities along the Pacific Coast (U.S.). Great atmosphere, gorgeous food, friendly people and fabulous food. Yes, it does rain. Eh, it’s still worth it. I heard that it rains a lot in parts of Europe as well :).
I think Seattle has to be visited:)
Roger, pure brilliance! Of course the photographs are just Exceptional! The first is evocative (maybe this is my own warped imagination) of drunken sailors hanging over the edge of the ship. Such an attention-grabber that one! But your writing Roger – pick a superlative! They all apply. I can’t imagine an eating scene being set more brilliantly, more sensorily, than you have done! Simply, Bravo!
Well, Antoinette, now I am lost for words:)
I’ll be back for more.. your writing really transports me, Roger! Are there recipes included in your ebook?
It’s packed with recipes and stuff about food and France. If you go to this link http://www.blurb.com/books/2241474 you can look at the whole book – there’s an icon on the right below the book that gives you a full screen view.
excellent! c
Thanks for that:)
Evocative! Thank you Roger.
Danke schon, Rosemary:)
Reading these words make me want an invite to that table 🙂
With winter approaching fast, I’d like a time machine to take me back to that summer table:)
I have the very same tools – it’s amazing what one can buy in a French supermarket!
When I was at art college, the Fijian guy in the next room to me had his grandfather’s dinner tools hanging on the wall – specially made for cracking open a human brain and scooping the insides out. I can see a certain similarity 😉
I had to buy langoustines, none of the supermarkets had any human head ( I didn’t have the tools anyway, so just as well):)
I think they are all hand made and the manufacturer has gone out of business due to lack of interest 😉
That’s the trouble with this modern world – ” There’s no call for them, Sir”:)
OK, of all the awesome photos you post, that first one easily jumped to my top five.
They make superb models:)
What a picture you paint! Back in The Day, there were very often at least 13 of us at the dinner table. Though the dinner you described is far beyond our means at the time, I can nevertheless picture my family members seated at that table. Thanks, Roger, for the smile.
The Southern Europeans seem to have retained a respect for the nuclear family. It’s all but disappeared in the UK.
As I read this post, I can imagine that French family gathering around eating delicious frutti di mare!! Brilliant!! In Italy, that same kind of family would be eating their spaghetti alle vongole (spaghetti with clams) or risotto alla crema di scampi (risotto with creamy prawn sauce).
It’s a wonderful habit – long may it continue:)
The beauty of your photographed prawns reminds me to ask whether you’ve seen “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” on Netflix. I think you would greatly appreciate the cinematography of the sushi.
I must check it out – thanks for the link:)
Bravo, Roger. Love those little guys.
They are cool, aren’t they? It was a spur of the moment thing.
Was just going to allow my computer its midday nap and go make myself some lunch: somehow I feel I have been to a marvellous seafood one already tho’ . . . thanks for the invitation 🙂 !
Absolutely welcome:)
Oh, the prawnanity.
Or is it prawniness?
Prawnkind?
I was just reading about Becket in the News Statesman, and your little group of words has the ring of his poetry:)
As always, something to “chew over” and great photos. Mmmm… hmmm…
Get masticating:)
Simply wonderful. Now, how am I supposed to consume a boring turkey sandwich for lunch after looking at this? 🙂
Shellshock made my day what a great image. It’s cold grey and rainy in south London, such a treat to visit your blog, and be taken to somewhere more inspirational.
Glad it helped to keep out the cold and grey:)
And, now I’m hungry. I can’t get langoustines where I am, but shrimp and lobster are plentiful at the fish market.
That’s very Marie Antoinentte “Let them eat lobster….er, and shrimp….and perhaps a little brioche.”:)
Loved the first shot! 😉
It happened on the spur of the moment. Luckily I had my camera with me as it’s unusual to see langoustines sunbathing at this time of year:)
Those things look jauntier than they ought to given their situation. A long lunch is a glorious thing, and this is a fitting tribute!
I don’t think they’re aware of the trouble they’re in:)
Roger, these photos are worthy of their own book!
A small but tasty book – thanks:)
As your extract suggests, there’s something wonderfully communal about eating fruits de mer with the tiers of prawns, oysters and so much else placed in the centre for sharing. Not that I’d want to live without meat as well! I obviously have a much tougher, less sympathetic character than you, because this doesn’t bother me in the least. Great shot of those innocent beings just hanging there waiting to be eaten.
They’r sunbathing —not waiting to be eaten. No wonder crocodiles behave so badly when they see humans hanging around by the water’s edge:)