April in Naples, and the weather is being absolutely ridiculous. Moody skies, unpredictable rain on two straight long weekends—I’ve even caught a cold from all this temperamental spring business. But honestly? That’s not even what’s been bothering me.

No, what’s really getting to me is something more serious: my mussel luck has officially gone downhill.

Three Strikes at the Restaurant

In just two weeks, I’ve had three separate restaurant experiences with cozze that were nothing short of disappointing. We’re talking tiny—I mean, barely bigger than the tip of my thumb. And flavor-wise? There was barely anything there. Just these sad, small shells that had me wondering if I’d somehow cursed myself.

So what did I do? I got fed up and marched straight to the fishmonger. “I’ll just buy them fresh and cook them myself,” I thought. Problem solved, right?

The Fishmonger Disaster

Wrong. So very wrong.

I ended up with spoiled mussels. Like, actually rotten. I had to throw the entire batch away, along with what felt like my entire love affair with mussels. Seriously—they went straight into the trash, taking my enthusiasm with them.

This is why you don’t just randomly buy mussels on a whim. You need to go to a trusted fishmonger, someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone you have a relationship with. I learned that the hard way.

Hope in Sicily

But I’m not giving up yet. Next month, I’m heading to Sicily, and I have my sights set on redemption: le cozze di Ganzirri from Messina. A friend recommended them to me ages ago, and I’ve been thinking about them ever since. These mussels come from the famous saltwater lakes near Messina, and they’re supposed to be extraordinary.

So here’s my question: if mussels are your thing, which saint do you pray to? Because clearly, I need divine intervention at this point.

Maybe my mussel era isn’t actually over. Maybe it just needed a Sicily-sized reset.