Basquing in Mussels: Pickled mussel and bread salad

So, where do I start with the puns and internal references here? Hmmm. Well, of course, faithful readers of this blog know all about Annalena's not so new found work at the gym. So, we've got mussels/muscles, right? Being there every day, has one basking in them, yes?
Ok, it doesn't work real well. Ultimately, this is about a Basque dish that I ate during our trip to San Francisco this fall - our first in three years.
As a rule, if I'm writing about Basque food, we were in San Francisco, since I love Piperade the restaurant so much. I think I am in love with the contralto who has been their hostess for years, with Chef Hirigoyen (he's a looka, gang), our regular waiter, who is not so much a looker but has that European sense of charm and style that makes looks irrelevant (why can't Americans pull that off, by the way?). And then there's the food. Oh, the food.
When we were there this time, my eye was drawn to a pickled mussel salad. I had never had pickled mussels before, and when our waiter friend said "yes, it's good, you should have it," I did. And it was wonderful, even though it was based in large part on frisee, not one of my favorite things in the world. But I made it, from memory, and it was close. And I find, now, that I have the recipe in book form. So, we'll go back to it.
Mussels are a good thing. They are cheap. They are easy to prepare. You can find them all year round. Many cookbooks will tell you to scrub and "debeard" or "beard" them. This was in fact necessary when Annalena was a youngster, because mussels were usually taken wild. These days, they are pretty much all farmed, and this is irrelevant. If, however, you are of an outdoor nature and you find yourself a batch of wild mussels, you will need to pull those little "beards" off of the critters before you cook them. Since most of my readers, in fact all the ones I know, are not prone to foraging their own mussels, I leave this step out.
You need 3 pounds of them. Get a couple of tablespoons of olive oil heated up, and add your aromatics. In the recipe, the "aromatics" are simply a few tablespoons of shallot. I did it with onion, garlic, and fennel. Your choice. Saute' the aromatics in the oil, and then pour in the mussels. Cover the pot or pan (if it's big enough), and cover it tightly. Bring the pot to high heat, and then, after five minutes, take a look. They will begin to pop open, and probably will all open, or at least just about all of them. Pull out the mussels. Don't fret about the ones that don't open, just toss them, and if you like, drain the liquid and store it. Freeze it for when you make fish soup. Let these guys cool.

Meanwhile, make some croutons. Do this by cutting about 3 slices of good quality bread into small cubes. Toss them with a tablespoon of olive oil, and put them onto a baking sheet, and into a preheated oven at 350 for ten minutes. Let them cool too.

The astute amongst you will see that you can do these two steps simultaneously. Do it if you feel comfortable that way. After ten minutes of sitting, though, the mussels should be cool enough for you to pull them out of the shells. Toss the shells, and put the mussels into a bowl, together with a clove of garlic, minced, some more shallot if you only used shallots in the aromatics, or, perhaps some of the cooked aromatics if you were more ambitious. Also add about 1/4 cup of red wine vinegar (or, white wine vinegar, if you like), together with 1/3 cup of fruity tasting olive oil. Blend these all together.

Finally, take about 2-3 cups of fresh frisee (more on this in a variation below), and combine it with the mussels, together with the croutons. Toss everything together, and serve it forth.

When I made this myself, I cooked the frisee' down, just a bit, in the pot where I cooked the mussels. The wilted flavor of the greens reminded me of the French frisee and lardon salad, but you might prefer the fresher flavor. It really is up to you.

Turning back to the astute, who may have questions, of course if you want to substitute clams, go right ahead. I've already suggested variations within the recipe, and you could vary the greens, but I would stay away from the sweeter, softer lettuces. Maybe endive would be good. I may try that variation later in the year.

So, basque in this food yourself. It's a little bit different, and it's more than a little bit good.