Last night, after leaving the office, I started on the trip which has become a part of my daily routine. I head over to the nearest 24 hour Tesco to pick up things for dinner and spend a disproportionate time hanging around the bargain bin. Usually, I pick up things I don't need and they get stuffed into the already bulging freezer compartment I have in my little student flat.  In the last week I've picked up oxtail, a load of lunch tongue, 20p runner beans, some veal and yesterday added a kilo of live mussels to the pile. Well, they only cost £1.70! 

As I staggered home, I couldn't help worrying how I had started to resemble my Dad.  He too had the bargain bin habit and made a point of visiting every large supermarket in our area twice a week. The amount of bargain food we threw away was ludicrous. The shopping trips were made even longer by his obsessive need to inspect every item on the shelf to check it wasn't in any way damaged, dented or discoloured. Is it only a matter of time before this happens to me? 

Coincidentally, Dad popped by the flat that evening to drop off some stuff from home and harass me about various insurance related things. As we talked, I brought out that day's purchase from the fridge and said, “Look Dad! Only £1.70 for a kilo!” Dad had recently started eating seafood again after years of vegetarianism, so I thought he might be interested. He seemed confused.

“Live mussels? What does live mean?” This the type of question only my dad would ask. Maybe he thought they were plugged into the mains.

“Uhh… live as in alive. It means they aren't dead,” I replied. At this point a look of sheer horror came over Dad's face.

“You're going to eat them alive?! You can't do that! ”

“No, I'm not eating them alive.” Dad looked more calm. “I'm going to cook them. They'd probably make me ill if I ate them alive.” This sent him through the roof.

“No, no no, you can't do that! Please don't do that! You might… HURT them!!”

Dad hasn't ever responded well to explanations about biology. After learning about evolution at school I tried to explain the theory to him. He ended up thinking that if you cut the tail off a mouse, the mouse would have tail-less babies from then on. Explaining the concept of a bivalved animal without much in the way of a brain made even less sense to him. I remember he once asked me if squid talked to each other.

After ten minutes of bargaining for the lives of the mussels, I was allowed to make my dinner on the condition I made their deaths as pleasant as possible. Dad swore back on vegetarianism. Just before he left I pulled some calamari, which I'd been making as a pre-dinner snack, out of the oven. Dad asked, “Is that squid?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I'm to hungry to wait for dinner without a snack.”

“Did you cook it?” I'm always at a loss to answer these questions. What did he think I'd done to them by putting them into the oven?

“Yes. That is why they're golden brown, hot and on a baking tray.”

“Can I try just a little bit?” That takes the biscuit. Dad's latest attempt at vegetarianism lasted under five minutes.

“Ok, if you want.” 

 â€Well, it's dead already so I guess it can't hurt now.”

Interesting moral standpoint. You can't kill animals to eat them but if someone else kills them on your behalf then it's fine. Go figure. Anyhow, I decided that I'm probably not really going to end up much like my Dad. Despite years of being subjected to the Disney version of Alice in Wonderland I haven't grown up with the idea that mussels and oysters have cute little faces and talk to each other. I wonder how Dad got like that growing up in rural Sri Lanka.  

Anyway, my friends the mussels were steamed in a Thai style broth of coconut, lemongrass, lime, chilli and coriander and served with ginger rice. They were really good. Having them fresh makes a big difference. Half  a kilo got eaten and the rest are sitting cooked in my fridge.