I used to pick mussels off the rocks in front of the cottage in Cushing at low tide.

We had them way too often when I was a kid. They were plentiful, and they were free for Pete's sake. And that reminds me: it was usually my little brother Pete who did the collecting of the little bi-valves. He was always game for anything. So he gathered them, mum cooked them, and I ate them, unlike in the Little Red Hen story, about how we reap what we sow. I'm not going to get into that now though. If you’re not familiar with it, Google it.

But as I said, Pete was always game for anything. Like the time my mother asked him to go down to the shore and see why the drain pipe was plugged. This was when drain pipes went right into the ocean, legally. I know. Gross. Anyway, he went down and was peering up into the end of the pipe when someone flushed the toilet — and it came unplugged. Sorry. We're talking food here.

And I don't need to be reminded that the mussels we ate were pulled from rocks around the same area.

So anyway, mussels aren't free anymore. They have virtually disappeared from our Maine coast. (I’ll get into that whole thing when I write a serious story about mussels.)

Luckily we have mussel farmers. And the mussels these guys are raising, from seed to harvest, are a lot better than the free ones we harvested ourselves. Might have something to do with the fact that they grow five miles offshore. Not that anyone's sewer runs directly into the ocean anymore. Legally anyway.

Last week I went to Damariscotta River Grill and ordered up a serving of mussels. Owner Rick Hirsch, who's also the executive chef at the restaurant, has been preparing mussels the same way for around 40 years. There's really no good reason to change the recipe.

“You can't go wrong with butter and garlic,” he said. “Julia Child always said you can't have too much butter.” There are some julienned veggies and white wine thrown in there too. The dish is, like, totally awesome. And it's only $11.54 for a huge bowlful.

You can't go wrong with the mussels that the restaurant gets from Pemaquid Mussel Farms, either. The owner of the mussel-producing business, Carter Newell, joined me. Fortunately for me, he was late, and by the time he arrived, I had polished off the quart-size serving, along with ciabatta bread from the Hootenanny bakery downstairs to dip in the buttery, garlicky juices. OMG.

Anyway. The mussels from Pemaquid Mussel Farms are plump, sweet and briny. They’re grown on ropes that hang from a 40-foot square float in cold, clean ocean water. No grit or beards in these mussels, like the ones I used to pick off rocks. These babies are clean!

I actually saved some of the juice and took it home to use in a haddock chowder. And don't think you won't be hearing more about this. I’ve been invited to a fish chowder competition at Ed and Betty Shaw's in East Boothbay next week, and I'll be comparing theirs with mine. Ed told me he uses monkfish in his, which worries me a little. I’ve never had it, but have you ever seen a monkfish? The mother nature nature network website describes it as “unappetizing, freaky-looking fish ... so grotesque that … for years, people didn't want to eat the fish because it was so ugly.” Anyway, good luck, Ed. I may end up eat my words along with your chowder.)

So I won’t be offering a recipe for mussels this week, because really, for the price of those succulent, ridiculously scrumptious mussels they serve at Damariscotta River Grill, along with the Hootenanny ciabatta bread, just go there and get some. The only thing missing from my meal was a nice cold glass of chardonnay. It was lunchtime and I was working. Bummer for me.

And by the way, for any of you who live in the Camden/Rockport/Rockland area, you can get Pemaquid Mussels at Jess's Market in Rockland. Great place for any fresh fish.

See ya next week.

Disclaimer: I’m not a chef. I lay no claim to being an authority on food or cooking. I’m a good cook, and a lover of good food. And I know how to spell and put a sentence together. This column is simply meant to be fun, and hopefully inspiring. So to anyone reading this whose hackles are raised because you know more about the subject of food than I, relax. I believe you. And feel free to email me: suzithayer@boothbayregister.com.