in Montpellier, the largest airport closest to where we live. My red bags all arrived this time and Amy greeted me with "Let's go have moules frites. Bouziques is only twenty minutes away!"
I guess the adventure has begun. Walking down the small village street, one side lined with outdoor cafes, the other side the shore, we were disappointed to find her favorite place closed for the day. Alas, that did not stop us. We found a cafe that served the moules (mussels) we could see growing in the bay. Ordering a bottle of white wine, we impatiently awaited the black pot that would contain our lunch.
The frites (French fries) arrived first and then the steaming hot moules floating in cream were placed before us. Taking a small shell in one hand we used it as "pinchers"to remove the sweet mussel from the other shells. Ah, were they delicious. With the gentle winds cooling us, it did not take long to empty the pot and leave only the shells.
Off in the distance we could see the posts that the mussels are farmed on. They are attached to ropes that spiral around the piling. There is a mesh that covers the growing babies, waiting to
be harvested. The bay at Bouziques is a haven for mussel farming.After a leisurely lunch, we were off to Amy's for what I thought would be a quiet evening. Ha!
á bientôt,
Cindy
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Oh Cindy! This is going to be so very interesting to follow you! Sounds great already. Well, 'cept for the mussels, LOL! Unfortunately, this old gal does not eat anything that lives in the water! I always envy those who do when the fish is as fresh as the day!
ReplyDeleteKatie