Portuguese-Style Mussels in Garlic Cream Sauce — A Celebration Dinner for the Fact of It

The church rummage sale. Same as every year. I baked — fewer items this year because my time is different now, allocated differently, the baking hours shared with caregiving hours in a way they weren't before. But I made cinnamon rolls (thirty, not fifty) and limpa bread (four loaves, not six) and a cardamom cake, and I brought them to the table and I worked the sale and I was part of the community because community doesn't stop when your life gets hard. Community is what holds you when your life gets hard. The congregation knows about Paul. I told Pastor Lindqvist (the new pastor — Lindqvist retired, and the new one, Pastor Eriksson, is young and earnest and trying very hard). The church doesn't make a fuss — Lutheran churches don't fuss, they pray — but the prayers are there, and the casseroles started arriving last week. Three casseroles in one week from three different church ladies, each one labeled with reheating instructions, each one an act of love disguised as tater tot hotdish. I accept the casseroles. I accept the prayers. I accept the hand that Mrs. Gustafson puts on my arm every Sunday and the way she says, "How are you, Linda?" and means it. I accept these things because accepting is harder for me than giving — Johansson women give, we don't take — but Paul's diagnosis is teaching me to take. To accept. To let other people's love in, even when my instinct is to say "I'm fine" and carry everything alone. Paul went to the rummage sale with me. He walked the tables — his legs are still fine, his walking is strong — and he bought a used book about the Great Lakes and a ceramic coffee mug with a picture of the Aerial Lift Bridge. He held both items in his right arm, tucked against his body, and he looked happy. Happy at a church rummage sale on a Saturday in June. I'll take it. I made a special dinner: gravlax, again, because gravlax is our celebration food and today felt worth celebrating — not for any particular reason but for the fact of it. The fact that we're here. The fact that Paul walked through a rummage sale and bought a book and a mug. The fact that the cinnamon rolls sold out. The fact that the church is still standing and we're still in it. The gravlax was perfect. Paul ate it with rye bread, one-handed, carefully. He said, "I love this meal." I said, "I know." He said, "I love this life." I said, "I know." He said, "I love you, Linda." I said, "I know that too." The rummage sale raised $1,800. The cinnamon rolls sold in thirty minutes. The church is still standing. We're still in it.

Gravlax is our celebration food — it has been for years — but on the nights when I want that same feeling of this day deserves something without the two-day cure, I turn to these mussels. There’s something about a pot of mussels in garlic cream sauce that feels like a occasion without requiring one: the steam, the briny smell, the way the cream goes golden at the edges of the pan. Paul loves them the way he loves the gravlax — quietly, seriously, with good bread — and on a Saturday that gave us a rummage sale and a book about the Great Lakes and $1,800 raised for the church, that felt like exactly enough reason to make them.

Portuguese-Style Mussels in Garlic Cream Sauce

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 lbs fresh mussels, scrubbed and debearded
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• 2 shallots, finely diced
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
• 3/4 cup dry white wine (such as Vinho Verde or Sauvignon Blanc)
• 3/4 cup heavy cream
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Crusty bread or rye bread, for serving

Instructions

1. Clean the mussels. Rinse mussels under cold running water, scrubbing the shells with a stiff brush. Pull off and discard any beards. Discard any mussels that are cracked or that do not close when tapped firmly. Set aside.
2. Build the base. Heat olive oil and butter together in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Once the butter is melted and foaming, add the shallots and cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 to 3 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for 1 minute more, until fragrant but not browned.
3. Deglaze with wine. Pour in the white wine, increase the heat to medium-high, and let it simmer for 2 minutes, scraping up any bits from the bottom of the pan. The liquid should reduce slightly.
4. Add the cream. Pour in the heavy cream and stir to combine. Bring the sauce to a gentle simmer and let it cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until it thickens slightly and coats the back of a spoon.
5. Steam the mussels. Add the cleaned mussels to the pan in a single layer (work in batches if needed). Cover tightly and cook over medium-high heat for 4 to 5 minutes, shaking the pan once or twice, until all mussels have opened. Discard any mussels that have not opened after 6 minutes.
6. Finish and serve. Stir in the lemon juice and taste the sauce, adjusting salt and pepper as needed. Scatter the fresh parsley over the top. Bring the pan directly to the table, or ladle into wide, shallow bowls. Serve immediately with plenty of crusty bread to soak up the sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 385 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 23g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 670mg