Menu Fourteen: In Catalonia

“Many people think they don’t like anchovies…” is the opening line from this menu. I used to be one of those people. It was only after a rather amazing tapas experience with our dear friends k+d that changed that; in fact the very reason I chose this menu was due to the beautifully glistening anchovy fillets; I didn’t care what came after on the following pages, I just knew that I wanted to eat those salty little gems. Little did in know that the true surprise of this meal would reveal itself as a post-dinner philosophical discussion.

I set the whole day aside, devoted to the planning and preparation of this menu. I created a shopping list over a cup of coffee, then headed to the Ferry Building Farmers Market to collect my bounty. Since I scored everything minus the seafood items (however, I did find the anchovies at the market), I headed to Whole Foods to find the remaining ingredients. I opted for two different types of mussels: common blue and the green lipped. I was disappointed to find that I would have to return later in the day to purchase halibut bones for the fish stock, so I cheated and went with prepared fish stock (at least it was made by the young, knowledgeable man helping me behind the counter… that counts, right?!).

The recipes were a breeze. I prepared a few items in advance (cleaned the mussels, marinated the monkfish, made the red pepper sauce) so when it came time to make dinner (which really couldn’t come quick enough and I attempted to distract myself until dinner reading Anna Karenina) everything came together in 35 minutes, easily. The table was set, the soup was steamy, the antipasti tempting, the wine chilled. We ate, enjoying every bite of the flavorful, yet mild, comforting Spanish inspired fish soup. It was my very last mussel that happened to fall with ease out of its shell into my bowl. I took a moment to admire this meaty little nugget and, as I often do, started to “examine” (all right, I was playing with my food) this gift from the sea. I noticed a funny little lump and pulled it out…O…M…G. A semi-digested crab bursting with roe. I spent the next 10 seconds trying to keep my appetite from completely disappearing.

A few deep breaths and a clear thought later, I began to question this automatic reaction of repulsion. Why am I so freaked out by this? I am obviously getting my fill eating this mussel… and what does the mussel eat? I had a face-to-face confrontation with my food, the things I eat, the things my food eats, and the places all eats come from. It’s easy to isolate oneself from the food chain when we purchase perfectly-packaged food… we forget that there was an existence for this item, be it animal, vegetable, or dairy, prior to arriving in the supermarket, farmers market, and yes, Whole Foods. Is this simply an American issue and should I place the blame on our privileged, western culture for not having to partake in the “gruesome” aspects of our food? When walking through the markets in Italy, I was initially horrified by the hanging chickens, fully intact (sans feathers) with heads and feet, or head meat literally cut from the back of a decapitated pig head. Yet, this was an assurance to the buyer that this was fresh meat (from the actual farmer, no less). All this to say that it took a small encounter with this little crab to recognize the limits and boundaries in which we place our food. Although I had previously considered myself an open-minded eater, there are evidently hidden traces of my former life as a blind consumer.

Ultimately the meal was a 3 out of 5. I thought it was good, easy, and would for sure make it again (especially for someone who really enjoys mussels… not Brian), but will probably add a bit more spice and cube the fish prior to marinating to allow the flavors to better penetrate. I halved the ingredient amounts since I was only cooking for 2, but still have enough for four hefty portions. Thinking that the soup wouldn’t last so well as leftovers, I bagged up two meals and shared them with some new friends on the streets, where they were very appreciated on a chilly San Francisco evening.

made w/ love,

Stephanie