My old pal Benny used to love Sriracha. He called it ‘cock sauce’, as many do, a cheeky take on the rooster logo on the exterior of this particular Asian chilli condiment. Benny used to drizzle cock sauce on everything.
As well as Asian food, he was a master of Mexican cheffery, and he used to whip up fat batches of delicious enchiladas and tacos weekly as part of his rental agreement for crashing on the couch for months on end, smoking pot and watching consecutive episodes of “Queer as Folk”.
The apartment was just off 61st St Woodside, Queens, New York, a loud loud and hectic neighbourhood in a wild city. The apartment was cosy and good food and drink united us.
One time, Benny got himself into a pickle. Or, more precisely, got his pickle into something rough. After a hectic session with a handful of jalapenos, he went off to use the bathroom, neglecting to wash his hands prior to. A great howl bellowed from behind the closed bathroom door, penetrating the apartment, hurtling out the windows to greater Queens; it was heard over the roar of the low-flying regional jets coming in to land at LaGuardia, over the rumble and slice of the 7 Line trains bound for Grand Central. Benny’s crotch had become a jalapeno oil fire.
The house scrambled to put it out. “Milk! Get him some milk,” someone said. Amidst a fridge full of condiments and old Chinese polystyrene containers, there was no milk to be found, just a box of month old soya drink. “That’ll do! Put it in a saucer or a cup!” A mad fossick through the cupboards ensued. No clean saucers in sight. No cups. All there was, deep in the cupboard’s dusty recesses—a lonely, willing martini glass.
Benny’s Mexican cooking session was abandoned that day. He spent it on the couch, his junk draped in a martini glass full of soya beverage, watching “Queer as Folk”, hoping for better times. (No olives required).
Had it have been ‘cocksauce’ instead of jalapeno, few martini glasses would have sufficed in this affair. Benny would have been in hospital. With our old cock sauce-lovin’ mate in mind, this week, we serve up the Sriracha Kewpie Mussel Explosion—for those who like their mussel hot!
Here, Sriracha parties with Kewpie Japanese Mayo in a broiled open shell incendiary mussel sensation. Incredibly easy to make, impressive on the eye, you’ll be gobsmacked just how delicious these bad boys are. Oysters what? Fahgeddaboudit! Wrap your mouche around these beauties. (And make doubly sure you wash your hands before touching anything).
Note: Benny was later made to drink the ‘jalapeno soy milk dong martini’ as further punishment. A Queens original, and an instant classic. Coming soon on sh.k (or not).
- 24 Mussels, scrubbed and de-bearded
- 150ml of Kewpie mayonnaise
- 3 Tbls of Sriracha hot sauce
- 2 Spring onions, sliced finely
- 1 Garlic clove, minced
- Toasted sesame seeds for garnish
- Preheat grill or broiler to high (200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6).
- Mix Kewpie mayonnaise and Sriracha in a small bowl until combined and smooth.
- Heat a pot with approximately 5cm of water and boil. Once boiling, add mussels and cook until their shells open. Remove from heat.
- Open up each mussel, remove and discard one half of their shell. Line a large baking tray with baking paper or aluminium foil and place each mussel in its half shell onto the tray.
- Using a teaspoon, dollop sauce onto each of the mussels, ensuring they're covered completely. Plate the mussels underneath the grill for approximately 10-12 minutes, check frequently as the grill can cook quickly.
- While the mussels are cooking, heat a frying pan to high and lightly fry the spring onion and minced garlic.
- Remove the mussels from the oven (they should be bubbling and golden brown).
- Top with a few of the fried spring onions, a sprinkle of sesame seeds, and serve immediately!
After years of living in gritty share houses—some wonderful, some pitiful—Honor Kennedy and Cam Hassard met each other in one.
Now living together in a Berlin apartment, they reflect on the gritty traditions of their sharehouse past, an homage to all the good bits of shared life—the camaraderie, the community, the meals and the wine.
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