It’s actually pretty tasty if you enjoy this sort of thing.

So the fellow who introduced me to oysters also had me try mussels at some point later in our culinary excursions.

I don’t enjoy them as much as I do oysters. Well, I shouldn’t say that, a pot of moules frites is a delight, but not for the reasons you might think.

This is a traditional pot of mussels, complete with an incredible collection of green things – in this case, green onions, leeks, celery… Probably some shallots and some onions.

And then the whole thing is cooked in butter, garlic and white wine.

Throw in some mussels, steam to perfection and hey-presto, lunch.

But for me the best part isn’t the mussels. They’re great and everything, but the best part is scooping heaps of the greens on a piece of grilled sourdough. Which I did with abandon. I don’t think anyone noticed how enamored I was with the part of my lunch that wasn’t the main attraction. Well, if they did they didn’t make any mention of it, which is just as well.

Without a doubt the tastiest and best part of the meal. I wonder what would happen if I ordered a pot of mussels, and asked them to hold the mussels.

Lunch at the lake

I do love this photo. The sandwich was pretty good, as well. Question: Does a piece of food taste better because of where you eat it (in this case my in-law’s property on Christina Lake in British Columbia) or taste better because of what you eat it off of? (In this case, a vintage plate that was made, as my mother would say, “When God was a little boy.”)

Difficult to say. I know the crossword added to the enjoyment, as did the fact that I could eat it while wearing a damp pair of swimming trunks.

How do non-food factors influence how we enjoy (or not enjoy) the food we eat? Would this sandwich taste the same if it were eaten in a rush in the front seat of a car in a January rainstorm?