It’s a most magical time of the year, yet also one of the most torturous. The week when my timeline is just awash with photos of glistening oysters just waiting to be gobbled up. Some just lounge there looking oh so pretty, others are garnished with hot red splashes of chilli sauce, some are action shots with lemon juice squirting onto them from high above, or perhaps you’ll spot one bubbling hot and topped with breadcrumbs. When it occurs I just know an oyster date needs to happen soon. How long can I hold out and which restaurant do I choose? I’m not patient when it comes to getting what I want, especially when it comes to food… Well, in my experience, there are three very different oyster occasions.
The first is the most casual, a stand on the seafront or a white tiled shop on the promenade with a steel counter mounded with ice. Little cups of mussels, cockles, whelks and tiny prawns sit there in the chill, nestled around them larger cooked prawns and dressed crabs and then the craggley, grey-green oysters, not yet split open. There will probably be a few bottles sat there – malt vinegar, worcestershire sauce, maybe some more interesting things like tabasco or a shallot vinegar and hopefully a bowl of fresh lemon wedges. A gentle warning – if there’s imitation lobster tails and squeezy bottled lemon juice you may want to find another spot, or at least avoid those like the plague. Select your goodies and watch them expertly shuck open your oysters, pop them on a paper plate and throw on some lemon slices. Maybe you’ve pre-prepared and bought a bottle of vino from the supermarket down the road, maybe not and you’ll chase your salty treats down with a can of Fanta lemon. Either way, dress them as desired at the side table with all the accoutrements and then trot yourself over to a nice wooden table precariously balanced on the stoney beach and enjoy yourself a (probably) slightly chilly and windy British afternoon at the seaside.
The second scenario is in a brightly lit restaurant, jubilant and relaxed with a group of your loveliest friends. Perhaps it’s a celebration, perhaps it’s just a treat between you and your pals that also love dropping some cash on a luxurious lunch. A bottle of champers is popped, glasses are filled and the golden bubbles get you all a little tipsy before any food even arrives. There are tiles on the walls and probably white marble topped tables, big windows flood the space with natural light that makes the white napkins and shining cutlery almost too bright to look at directly. Maybe a metal ring stand is placed in the centre of the table then topped with a platter, or it could be a raised plate resembling a cake stand, but either way it’s covered in salt or crushed ice and never fails to arouse oohs and aahs of delight from the mouths of everyone around you. There they lie, perfectly shucked and sparkling oysters almost too pretty to top with anything. You all dive in and grab, popping on whatever takes your fancy before cheers-ing shells and slurping back that divine liquor and meat. You all grin and sip your bubbly and you know you’re with your people.
The third, perhaps my favourite, is sitting with someone you find supremely attractive in an artfully dark restaurant. Hopefully there’s a table lamp or a candle or two bathing the ice cold martini in front of you in warm light while making the rest of the room feel dim, giving the illusion that you and they are alone in a little world of your own. Perhaps you’re in a cosy, tried and true traditional spot with white tablecloths and red napkins and Sheffield steel knives and forks, or a more modern establishment where the walls, tiling, floors and upholstery is in different shades of deep dusky pink offset by brass fixtures. Or if you’re very lucky maybe you’ve been taken to a private club where it’s likely the martini will be expertly made by someone who’s been doing it for decades. You try not to look too intently into your companion’s eyes as you discuss something, anything, and the plate arrives just in time. No cheers this time, but a little shiver of anticipation – please please please don’t disappoint me. Not the oysters, but the date – I’ll know instantly if this was all for show… there’s no hiding dislike of an oyster.
Only once have I ever been given an oyster fork and honestly, it took away a bit of the spark. Every time I raise a shell to my mouth I picture a mishap, the liquor and meat spilling down my chin and top and ending up down my cleavage. But I’ll take the risk, and touch wood, it hasn’t happened… yet.
Unless already dressed for you (occasionally I like being told what to do…) the first oyster should be eaten as is in order to taste the beautiful natural salinity, the level of seaside sweetness and to gauge how much you want to gild the lily.
Then the fun really starts. What adornments have you been given? We all know I love a little build your own moment, a chance to mix and match flavours and textures. Depending on your venue of choice there’s a little dish of mignonette no doubt and probably some tabasco and horseradish. It’s highly likely that some lemon wedges are present but if you’re lucky you might have a few outliers too. I personally love an Asian inspired moment with some fresh chilli and lime and ginger and soy but I also welcome a supremely herby salsa verde style sauce. Once I even had one with a fizzy drizzle of gin and tonic and you know what, it wasn’t half bad.
I wouldn’t write off a cooked oyster either. As dated as they sound, a buttery, parsley flecked, breadcrumb topped Rockefeller can be a lovely little mouthful and I’ve heard that a smoked oyster can be wondrous. I recently tried a Hong Kong style super crispy deep fried oyster omelette and good god was it good stuff, dipped in a little mixture of fish sauce and sriracha, crackly and crunchy on the outside and soft and juicy within.
It’s true that I can romanticise any eating experience really, but there is something genuinely special about an oyster date, be it alone or with friends or with a love interest or partner. Just don’t force some poor soul to try them that really doesn’t want to as that can be disastrous for all involved. Oyster season is from now until March/April and I personally plan on indulging as often as I can. Fancy an oyster date?
Some lovely venues for oyster guzzling are:
The Pearly Queen, Shoreditch
Hawksmoor – Oyster Happy Hour anyone?
Native, Sheffield
The Italian Club Fish, Liverpool
English’s, Brighton
The Oyster Club, Birmingham
PS – If someone would like to take me to Bentley’s Oyster Bar in London, I wouldn’t say no.
xxx
