This is not my traditional writing having to do with brain plasticity, or the use of quantum physics for manifestation, so I’m going off on a tangent because it’s the holidays and I feel the need to be silly – you interpret as you will. What got me going was a chilled seafood dish I was lucky enough to experience in a small town on the gulf coast of Florida over the Christmas holiday. It was reminiscent of a meal I really relish when I get to France, and it contains numerous shell fish served on multiple tiers. I don’t remember the name of this particular treat, but I will endeavor to explain why I find it so rapturous. First, let me explain all the components. The tiers contain such items as crayfish in the shell, conch, mussels, oysters and yes, the lovely indigo colored periwinkle of which I write. I can’t say enough about periwinkles and this blog is a tribute to them. Periwinkles primarily come from Mediteranean waters, so they are a long way from home when devoured. I doubt anyone has paid much attention to how they arrive at their destination, or the thought that goes into making them more fragrant and succulent in the kitchens of Paris or Honfleur to name some gustatory ports. Here’s a tribute to this tiny crustacean.
I am a periwinkle and proud of it. My generation and my ancestors have served kings and continue to do so. Yet, we remain humble. We have been served to exalted individuals such as Charlemagne, who word has it, smacked his lips in anticipation of exhuming our soft, tender bodies from our protective shells. We have been appreciated by simple peasants who embellished us with garlic. We have endured environmental changes and have survived because we are a hearty lot. The life of a periwinkle is undeniably short, but rich in experience and purpose. Think about me the next time you order in a seafood restaurant. I am ready to be appreciated, and I happily will give myself up to you for your dining pleasure. –– My name is Perry and I speak for the periwinkle collective.