Oysters? Little oysters? But answer, there came none...
On occasion, I pull myself up by my boostraps and try one of those foods that I have previously held in disdan for their unpleasant taste, texture, what have you. This year on Oscar Night, at a gala cocktail party hosted by the Bruno-Beyers (two delightful friends of mine whose culinary skills are truly a marvel) , I decided to try oysters.
I had seen the aforementioned Mr. Bruno slurp their grey, slimy bodies from smooth white shells at Patis, and I watched in amazement. I'm not shy about seafood. I think muscles and clams are among the tastiest treats available for the palate. But those are cooked.
With the exception of sushi, I tend to have issues with "raw"... especially raw and slimy.
But, I tried one on Oscar Night as the boys put out a platter full of oysters large and small. I quickly poured the liquid slime body down my throat, tasting only a bitterness and sea water, and swallowed. I was underwhelmed, and too squeamish to give it a good chew. I felt as if I'd wasted one of their oysters.
Since then, I've kept my distance, but an article in the Food & Wine section of the Times today has me thinking I'm missing out on something... In The Oyster Is His World, we get a glimpse of the life of an affectionado, a connoisseur, if you will, and it makes you want to start shucking.