Mussel

White wine and briny shellfish juices marry in the pot, then are puréed with parsley to create a light sauce so flavorful, it needs only a touch of butter.

When gooseberries are in season, Redzepi juices them to flavor this dish. Verjus (a tart bottled juice made from unripe grapes) or a combination of white grape juice and cider vinegar make great substitutes.

You don’t often see recipes for seafood pastas that incorporate vegetables other than the occasional chopped tomato, but broccoli adds a lot of body, color, and substance to this pasta dish. I love broccoli, but if you don’t, feel free to substitute your favorite green vegetable. It’s a great quick, elegant meal.

Steaming a pot of shellfish is actually quite simple—and quick. It requires just a small amount of aromatic liquid, such as the wine used in the recipe below, which imparts flavor to the shellfish while also mixing with the flavorful liquid released from the shellfish, resulting in a delicious broth. And the shells serve as a “steamer basket,” keeping the shellfish from being submerged in the liquid. A dry white wine is used as the steaming liquid; other good choices would be beer or water (you could even forgo adding liquid and steam the mussels in a covered pot until they open, as they have enough liquid in their shells, then sprinkle with salt and pepper). Here some aromatics are sautéed before the liquid is added to enhance its flavor before adding the mussels. In Belgium and France, mussels are traditionally accompanied by piping hot French Fries (page 333), but a crusty loaf of bread is always welcome.

What I like most about this mussels preparation is that they are not simply steamed in white wine, like the vast majority of mussels you see in restaurants. We cook them with a light tomato sauce—and, yes, also white wine—and toss in piles of herbs after the mussels are cooked, so the herbs wilt only slightly. The finished dish manages to be original and familiar at the same time. It also couldn’t be easier to make.

After we signed our lease, Mario took a critical look at the Pizzeria, and the first thing he said was “There’s no kitchen!” For a second I panicked, until he added, “It’s perfect! Everything you make in the Pizzeria should come out of the pizza oven.” With few exceptions, we have stayed true to that rule. We are always looking for creative, unexpected ways to use the oven, and these mussels, served with Salsa Calabrese, a red pepper–spiked mayonnaise, is a perfect example. The salsa recipe makes more than you will need for the mussels. Serve the rest on the side, and use what you have left on a sandwich or as a condiment for grilled fish, chicken, or meat.

Liana DiMeglio of Liana’s Trattoria in Fairfield, Connecticut, brought this recipe from Naples, Italy, years ago.

The traditional seafood stew of Provence is typically made with tomatoes, shellfish, local fish, and herbs, but this version is made without tomatoes, allowing the fish and saffron to be prominent. Cooking it over a wood fire adds a bit of smoke to the beautiful fish. Serve with a crusty baguette to soak up the flavorful broth.

Mussels unfettered by garlic taste more like their own sweet, turgid selves. On the tiny porch of the seaside bar where we ate this pasta, the cook who was the mussel gatherer who was the bartender who was the pastrymaker added crushed, dried seaweed to the finished dish. He cooked the mussels and the pasta over a fire he’d built of driftwood a few meters from the bar. It was a fairly good-sized blaze, ample enough to heat an old cauldron along with the mussel pot, it bubbling with a potion of wild myrtle berries in which he immersed a great, gray fish net, tinting it, cooking it to a deep, bright blue.

Prepare it with only mussels, with only clams, with various types of clams, make it for two of you or for all of you. Carry a great, steamy pot of it outdoors to a table set with candles and backlit by the moon on a cool, almost cold evening, everyone nuzzled in sweaters but still in shorts and sandals, hungry, tired, perhaps, happy. Serve it then, just the way it is offered in the tiny taverns and six-table houses that look to the sea between Amalfi and Positano.

Shellfish and beans are a classic Italian combination. In the tradition of frugal and resourceful peasant cooking, nothing goes to waste in this dish. As the beans simmer away with the thyme, rosemary, and chile, they create another invaluable ingredient: a delicious stock. Starchy and flavorful, it’s added to the steaming shellfish, thickening their juices into a complex broth. The cavolo nero adds an earthy note and a chewy texture to the seafood stew. This is a rustic family meal in which everyone should take part, serving themselves from the bountiful platter at the center of the table. And don’t forget to serve big hunks of crusty bread for sopping up all those juices.

Imagine eating mussels in their purest form. One bite of this dish and you’ll feel like you’re at sea. Quickly steamed in a rich seaweed broth, the mussels here are simply amazing. Sticky rice is great for soaking up the sauce, although I also like slurping it straight from the mussel shells.