Sam's Cookalong Diary Sam knows scallops inside out

Date Published:

12/01/2008

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Gordon's scallop advice gets me thinking - about sex. By Cookalong guinea pig Sam Jordison

Buy right

You might think that buying scallops lifted from the seabed by hand is an extravagance, but the importance of the point Gordon Ramsay makes in today's video about avoiding dredged scallops can't be emphasised strongly enough. Firstly, as the big man himself notes, scallops caught by scuba divers contain a lot less sand, and dredged scallops can spend up to two weeks on the ship before they even get to land. Naturally, they start to deteriorate during that time. So it's not surprising that dive-caught scallops taste much better. Even more importantly, large scale commercial dredging has a catastrophic effect on fish stocks. Your dive-caught scallops may cost more, but they're sustainable. Buying them helps ensure that everyone will be able to enjoy them for years to come – and our seas will remain diverse.

Mind you, the cost is eye-watering. Observant readers of this diary will note that I've been peddling false information in an earlier entry. I now have to offer an embarrassed apology. My claim that the only major expenses of the cookalong were likely to be a decent knife and quality steaks was wrong. Now that I've made an exploratory visit to my local fishmonger, I realise that getting the right kind of scallops will also set you back a cool £20. Still, I guess part of the point of the exercise is to treat ourselves to a meal worthy of a chef who's netted loads of Michelin stars.

A sensual experience

What's more, the scallops pay for themselves in entertainment value even before you've eaten them. Especially if like me, you've never handled them before. Popping them open and cleanly removing the flesh from the shell offers up a unique range of smells and sensations. There's the satisfaction first of all of the click as you twist your knife and the shell prises open. Then the sea smell hits you in welcome reminder of past summer holidays and that it isn't going to be a wet January forever. Then there's the intriguing weirdness of the fleshy part to contemplate: as soft and smooth and springy as jelly, presenting combinations of white, bright orange and dark grey shades.

The more I considered the scallops, the stranger they seemed. I soon found myself in a thought loop. Where do the scallop shells come from, I wondered? Does the muscular fishy part have to make itself this little house? At what stage in its life? What does it look like before it has a shell? Or does it pop out of its mother's body whole? How could anything get out of that tightly sealed shell? They must come out soft, in which case, where do the scallop shells come from?

Batting for both sides

Obviously I was getting nowhere, so I decided to do some research. The answers just made me marvel all the more. It turns out that scallops are hermaphrodites. They're capable of producing both eggs and spermatozoa, which are released freely into the water during mating season and thus get all mixed up. Fertilized eggs then sink to the sea bed where they set to work growing their curious bodies (over a number of years) until swimming off and starting the whole process again.

I also learned that not only do scallops have fascinating (though unenviable) sex lives in their own right, they play a major role in Western fertility imagery. It's no coincidence that Botticell's Venus rises out of a scallop shell. The love goddess has been associated with the bi-valves for thousands of years. Greek and Roman artists often used to depict Venus, either in or holding a scallop shell in order to distinguish her from all the other goddesses (who also generally seem to have been naked and buxom).

Feel the love

Frustratingly, the reasons why Aphrodite became so closely linked with molluscs have been lost in the mists of time. It's an especially strange association because unlike oysters, scallops never seem to have been considered aphrodisiacs, which is strange since they contain similar combinations of amino acids to the ones are supposed to give oysters their zing. Perhaps, as sceptics often say, it's simply the unique feel and texture of the oysters that sets off associations in people's heads and the nutritional components of the food make no difference at all. But we might just see a population spike nine months after the Cookalong.

Now that is something to think about.

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