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.