Poseidon, eat your heart out.

I'm a man that loves his seafood. Lobster, crab, fish... you name it and I'll bathe it in butter or tartar sauce and go to bed a happy man. So, it would seem an awful shame to leave the South of France without getting at least one meal of the fresh stuff. I know, it's blasphemy to even suggest such things in front of my mother - in fact, I can picture her reaction as I type this - but I felt like passing on the usual crab and lobster. I wanted something different.

Monaco.

That's how I came to be sitting in a seaside cafe in Nice, mostly eyeing the fresh fruit salad on the menu. And then I saw it. Mussels. Manny had turned me on to them several years ago, but it had been an awfully long while since I had last partook. 12 Euros seemed a little steep, but if that was the price to dine on the fresh stuff, then it was one I was willing to pay. You only live once, right?

And then they arrived.

Suddenly the 12 Euros seemed like a bargain. The server brought out a pot, not unlike the one my mother would use to cook the Thanksgiving Turkey in... same size too. And, contained within, stuffed bottom to top, was nothing but sweet, glorious mussels.



Perhaps it was my recent defeat in the Russ Challenge, and trust me, the sight and smell about to unfold wasn't going to put me back in that game any time soon, but I was feeling like I had something to prove. So, I ate them. Every last one. All 81 of them. And, I may never touch another one as long as I live, but today, as I paid my bill and left that cafe, my head was held high. For I, Travis Fairweather, had truly conquered the sea.

...and then I rode to Italy.