I’ve just got back from a visit to Rungis – the world’s biggest fresh produce market just outside of Paris. I was there writing an article for Yes Chef magazine and in the company of four esteemed chefs – the legendary Pierre Koffmann, Pascal Proyart, Mark Jordan and James Dugal. Just in case you’re picturing something similar to Borough Market, I’ll put it into context for you: Rungis is 232 hectares in size – bigger than the state of Monaco.
Some fish at Rungis
Little squids
The night before our tour of the market (which was to start at 3am) we went for supper at the age-old fish restaurant A La Maree at the edge of the market. It’s a jovial, fast-paced sort of a place that always delivers on quality, cooking with produce from the market, which is of course, only of the highest quality.
A La Maree fish restaurant at Rungis market
While we waited for our food I watched as people tucked in to sky-high plateu de fruits de mers and it brought back memories of childhood when I used to sit, whining next to my parents to throw me scraps from their platters. And that, my friends, is when I first fell in love with whelks, or sea snails, as they’re also known.
My mother being a little more protective of her side of the plateu than my dad (he no doubt had the lion’s share anyway), it was usually him that was more of a soft target for some fishy offcuts. And he used to give me whelks. Not being the most elegant-looking of the marine gastropod molluscs, I wasn’t sure at first, but once I’d tried one of the creamy, minerally snails dipped in some proper French mayonnaise, I was a convert.
Anyway, back to A La Maree – I started with six exquisite escargot in Roquefort, which were absolutely delicious and came in handy little pots which I subsequently dipped my baguette in. Across from me Pascal and Pierre were tucking into a bowl of said whelks. On seeing that I wasn’t averse to eating slimy creatures from shells, Pierre kindly offered me one, which I ravished with such an expression of joy, that after that he just kept placing them on my plate.
Yummy escargot and Roquefort
Pierre Koffmann, Pascal Proyart and some nameless oysters
It’s not everyday you share whelks with Pierre Koffmann, but what really struck me was quite how surprised him and Pascal were by me enjoying them. “It’s so wonderful to see a young girl such as yourself enjoying sea snails,” said Pascal. I’d never really thought about it before, but now I do, perhaps I am in the minority. What about you, dear readers, do you like to indulge in the wonders of whelks? Or do you know any lovely whelkish recipes? Share them with me.
Yes I absolutely adore whelks. In fact, any kind of sea creature gets a thumbs up in my book. Still sweet that they were happy to see you eating them, although, I must admit – I am also surprised!
Greetings fellow whelk-lover! I feel the same as you about general sea inhabitors, but had a bad whelk experience the other day in a seaside town in Kent. I bought a small tub of whelks from a seafood stall by the sea, and they were really rancid. Out of their shells, stale, and tasted rather as I imagine cat food (haven’t tried that one yet) to taste. urgh.
Know anywhere that does lovely fresh ones in London? I’m thinking Borough Market?
[...] combinations for the benefit of us lucky Londoners. Recently, on a trip to Rungis market the chef marvelled at my whelk eating capacity, so of course I was keen to visit his restauant and show him my other well-polished eating [...]
I live in Miami Florida and absolutely love Welks. Where can I buy them, frozen, on line.