On holiday near La Rochelle, we went out for a meal this evening and I had fruits de mer. Our (American) son-in-law stayed at home to look after our grandson. I brought back a whelk for him. He thanked me kindly but declined. It seems there is no obvious American word for a whelk. I mentioned the English saying, He couldn’t even run a whelk stall.

My son said given how disgusting they look, I can’t see how anyone could run a whelk stall. Profitably, anyway.

I ate it, anyway, with the rubbery pleasure that whelks bring.

whelk Chatel 318.JPG

Published by

Paul Hodson

Head of Unit "EnergyEfficiency" at European Commission, Directorate-General for Energy

2 thoughts on “Whelks”

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