The story of the curious oysters

"The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings". So said the Walrus to the Oysters.

Part two of the London Trilogy is the tale of  my first oyster. These little animals have received a bit of bad press recently... so I thought I'd jump on the band wagon! No just kidding, I am of course in support of eating oysters as a lovely sustainable seafood item. But while Alice in Wonderland's the Walrus and the Carpenter sung to the little oysters to lure them off down the beach in a sort of creepy abduction, I went to Borough Market.

As a former London resident I have often observed the Borough Market oyster stands and their oyster-eating customers (that's the only kind they have). Yet somehow I always felt too shy to ask for an oyster myself because I wouldn't have a clue what to do with it and would be embarrassed in front of all the knowledgeable oyster people. And I could hardly say "thanks" and pop it into my pocket to eat privately later. But during this last visit to London I decided to throw caution to the wind. Well actually I just found a friend to feel foolish with. You see, I liken novice oyster-eating to falling over:

If I fall over and embarrass myself with friends, well actually no one is surprised, and we laugh about it. If however I slip, trip or fall over when alone, I have the choice of either a) pretending I meant to do it and thus staying on the ground for a while, or b) getting up, doing an exaggerated 'silly me' face, probably accompanied by a shaking of the head and rolling of the eyes, in case anyone is looking, and then carrying on down the street trying to hide the fact that I really hurt myself.

So basically I had a friend with me to look like an idiot with, which makes it ok. And to pay for the oysters as it turned out. Winner! I mean thanks. So I went for it...

Formerly unbeknownst to me, there is a significant level of decision-making to be done when buying an oyster. This starts with whether or not to go native. Does it matter? Surely an oyster by any other name would smell as briny? Yet there are two species on sale and you must select one.

So, there's the native (or flat) oyster Ostrea edulis which is kind of round, and then there's the larger and kind of longer-shaped Pacific (or rock) oyster Crassostrea gigas. Natives/flats are well, native and look flat. The Pacific/rock oyster is from the Pacific, and resembles a rock. You really couldn't make this stuff up.

Why two species? Well, native oyster populations were thought to be less productive than desired, being a little 'averse to harsh weather conditions' as Richard Haward's Oysters puts it. The soft beggars. So in the 1960s the hardier Pacific oyster was deliberately introduced to be farmed for commercial purposes. This introduction of a non-native species was promptly followed by escapees merrily establishing populations in the wilds of the British coast (all imagine an oyster legging it over the farm walls to 'run free' and start an enormous family...). It's said that the Pacifics grow faster and spawn more frequently, and so are better suited to farming, and to outcompeting the sensitive natives as it turns out. Wise decision? Barn door, horse, bolted.

So oysters are bivalves, which is solely a revelation about their shell type. But, if you want to talk about the birds and the erm, shellfish, oysters can change sex and fertilise their own eggs. Yeh, take that! So yes, bivalves, meaning that their shell is made of two parts which can open and close. Normally when I say 'bivalves' I do the international sign for bivalves - heels of palms together, open and close hands at the fingers. Haha I know you're doing the international sign for bivalves right now....You'd like to know of some other famous bivalves? Alright let's see what I've got up my sleeve... well apart from muscles *smirk* there's scallops, clams, and mussels too.

Both oyster species are now found both wild and farmed in the UK and bivalve farming is generally great - all we need is a lil bit o substrate (rock, rope, whatever the mollusc likes to attach to), and a good water supply. Therefore this method of seafood production is uber sustainable and uber low impact on the environment. Wicked.

Second call to make: do you go large? Word of warning - the scientific name of the Pacific or rock oyster is directly translatable as "this oyster is giant and thick". Hindsight allows me to share a little wisdom with you - going for a 'large Pacific' on your first ever oyster could be a mistake. The oyster shells are all closed (this means the oysters are good and safe to eat) and obviously (but worth stating), raw. The guys on the stand (the 'shuckers') open the oyster up for you ('shuck' it) and cut them away from the shell to facilitate the tipping of the entire thing into your mouth. This you know is the etiquette in oyster-eating and only a total buffoon would do it any other way. Read on.

Thirdly, lemon juice? Tabasco sauce? Oh man. At this point I'm down the line at the table of condiments, holding my oyster-in-a-half-shell, unable to make any more decisions. MASSIVE oyster and all of its liquor in hand, I can delay no longer. Yet while I'm not known for the smallness of my mouth, I know that there is no way it will hold the entire contents of the shell. Tip it all in at once? (Shuck that!). So I gingerly held down the oyster and poured a good part of the liquor away until I felt that what was left was a manageable portion for a lady. What else have I since read in that pesky oyster-eating etiquette? That the only absolute rule that you must not break is do NOT pour out the oyster's liquor. Ooops.

And with that, in it went. Poor thing. No not the oyster - me! I'm the one standing in Borough Market, mouthful of what felt like curdled seawater. And they are considered an aphrodisiac??
"Well that's an alleged effect of the high levels of zinc contained in them"
"It's Boring Lindsay! Kick her!"
So eating oysters is considered to be a prelude to something else. Well, unless that something else is throwing up, I don't think I felt it.

The end of the tale? There was only one way for that oyster to go... no I didn't spit it out, I chewed like lightening and swallowed it down. And do you know what? I'd do it again! The bit about throwing up was just for comedic effect and while difficult to describe, oysters certainly can't be called bad... let's say complex.

And my friend? Well, apparently he didn't 'reduce the shell contents to a manageable portion for a lady' like I did. "Erm, you have a little something in your beard..."