Moules Maison (Mussels Home-Style) – Jacques Pépin's Table (p. 193)

Since the Midden had jury duty today, the Scotsman and I took control of dinner. We decided to go for mussels, and who better to guide us than Monsieur Pépin? He was dead on with the Seafood Bread, after all.

After a trip to Hubbell and Hudson, we hit the kitchen. The cooking time for this mussel dish is seven minutes, but with all the chopping of veggies and de-bearding of mussels, it took us a wee bit longer.


The mussels simmer in a large skilled with diced plum tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, scallions, and garlic. After getting the chopping out of the way, I started on the sides while the Scotsman worked on cleaning the wee bastards.

A pan of asparagus is always a nice accompaniment. The salad pictured below has a magical secret ingredient that will get nearly anyone to eat their greens: bacon fat. It's arugula and frisée tossed with blue cheese crumbles and bacon. After cooking the bacon, leave the fat in the skillet and whisk in dijon mustard, vinegar, and salt to taste, then pour it on. It makes the arugula wilty and the blue cheese melty. Which is, of course, yummy.


And these amazing Crash Hot Potatoes are courtesy of The Pioneer Woman. The basic idea is to boil small red potatoes until soft, lay them on a olive oil coated pan, smash them with a masher, and drizzle with more olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme. Bake them until brown and crispy. (Seriously, check out her pictures. She is much more talented than this Lass.)


After cleaning the mussels to a pearly shine, the Scotsman let them soak for a wee bit.


We chose the largest skillet in the kitchen and filled it with white wine, olive oil, and Louisiana Hot Sauce, and brought it to a boil.


The mussels went in first, followed by the veggies.

Twas a heaping skillet...and the recipe only called for letting it steam for seven minutes. But we dared not question Monsieur Pépin.

The mussels opening, the veggies cooked...and it was quite a tasty meal! In the end, we agreed that a bit more salt in the broth wouldn't have hurt, along with maybe a touch of butter. But overall, this was a fun meal to prepare and even better to eat!

Pistachio Floating Island With Black Currant Sauce – Jacques Pépin (The Complete Today's Gourmet, p. 383)

Disclaimer: The Scotsman comes up with the titles for these posts, not I.

After dinner, Monsieur Pépin was deemed the man of the hour, and the Midden and I decided to try out one of his desserts as well.


The Midden did most of the work for this one, whipping the egg whites until they were frothy and mixing in the sugar, strawberries, and pistachios. I blended black currant jam with more strawberries and a little bit of Creme de Cassis for the sauce while she placed the mold in its bathtub and in the oven.


Half an hour later, the island came out poofing up and brown like a loaf of bread. It deflated pretty quickly. After it cooled, we flipped it onto a plate. The underside looked like Christmas Wonder Bread, bright white dotted with red and green. Like fruitcake. Or like mold. Whichever you find tastier.


We spooned the sauce onto the plates, added the islands, drizzled more sauce on top, and added strawberries and pistachios for garnish.

"So it's nuts floatin' in egg?" the Scotsman said.

This didn't bode well.



However, we were all pleasantly surprised with this. If you're in the mood for a decadent dessert, this isn't it; Jacques claims only 280 calories per serving, and no fat. But if you've just feasted on a meal of butter and bread, this might top it off nicely.

Seafood Bread – Jacques Pépin (Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home, p. 138)

For our first blogworthy meal attempt, the Midden and I chose Pépin's Seafood Bread; hollowed out crusty Italian bread lined with herb butter, filled with chunks of fish and mushrooms, and topped with more butter, white wine, and breadcrumbs.

The recipe called for tuna, haddock, salmon, and squid, but the Midden pulled a face at that one and the fish monger was out of tuna and haddock, so ours is a mix of salmon, mahi mahi, cod, and orange roughy.

We got home and promptly realized we'd forgotten the Pernod (pronounced Pear-no, not "Purr-nod", as I soon learned), so the Midden ran back out and I started cubing and seasoning the fish. We hollowed the bread and chopped the insides for breadcrumbs and started on the butter.

The herb butter consists of almonds, garlic, and lots of fresh dill, blended with butter, salt, and pepper until smooth and super bright green. I'd love to show you how it looked inside the bread and on top of the fish, but I'm a dolt who forgot to get a picture before the breadcrumbs were on top, so here's a photo of the food processor:


Isn't that a lovely green?

The bread, fish, butter, and wine concoction simmered away in the oven for an hour while the Midden put the extra herb butter to good use in a green bean salad with bacon and bleu cheese. I sprinkled a bit of pecorino romano on top for the last few minutes to get all melted on the breadcrumbs. Here's the start:


And here's the finished product:


It was a bit in the pain to cut and have the pieces stay together, but the Midden did an outstanding job.

I don't know about the Midden, but this is the best thing I've ever made. The outside was crunchy and the inside was soft with butter and the whole kitchen smelled like garlic. The fish was perfectly cooked, too. Jacques, you're a genius.

But what about the only opinion that really matters?

The Scotsman pronounced it "stupendous", "best fish I ever ate", and even worthy of the Seine River dinner cruise! Final rating: