My French Kitchen Daily

"If I were to plan my last meal, Fruits de Mer would be the main course. To me it evokes everything that is good about food: the joy of excellent ingredients, simply presented; the time it takes to eat; and the pleasure of eating in an informal environment, surrounded by friends and family."
    – Harris, My French Kitchen










July 21

When we take a longing look at the picture of the seafood platter, as it sits an enormous deep white plate brimming over with the excitingly archaic structures of clam and crab shells, we can't help but wish that this pride of the ocean, this favorite meal of the ocean goers, was an abundance that did not carry an concern for sustainable numbers of each of these species. In a modern context of post-abundance, however, no matter how utterly beautiful the notion of the seafood platter – periwinkles, for goodness sakes!...seaweed! – it feels a little more a plate that represents a once in a lifetime, like something to savor like a grand splurge, to order such a thing. It's beauty, as Harris says, is that "it requires time and leisure. It encourages conversation, cooperation, intimacy, and friendship. It is the ideal thing for a large and cheery get together." Agreed. I, along with every other long time cooker of seafood, have come to the conclusion that there are virtually no other food sources that convey a place, an element of our earth, mores than fresh seafood. Cattle for beef, plants as our vegetables, fruits off of our trees; yes, of course all of these remind of us air, water, and earth, but how to

compare to the raw briny swishing nature of how sea creatures carry their surroundings; and so this preciousness is a wonderful cook's learning moment by which we at once respect and adore these creatures and our abilities, for so many generations, to pluck them from the sea, and can see how they have transformed our sociability; and by the same token, a perfect reminder of how to preserve the oysters, the mussels, the Dungenes with a strong and calculating will of resistance to over harvesting and over eating. It is at this moment that we might sense that all the fun is being taken out of the Seafood Platter – why must we limit? – but I'm to sure the logic holds if what we are doing is savoring this same miracle of a platter for future generations. It is true that we might not be able to eat the same bounty as often, but far better than eliminating the option for all later down the road. As we might look over the beautiful ceramic style art of the shells as we finish this meal, we might even say a prayer of the sea, and acknowledge, without any false sentiment, how lucky we have been. Down the channel of this imagination we see our ancestors eating the very same meal; we see two generations forward with the same gift of a treat.