
I did it. I finally did it. I ate raw oysters.
I set a goal for myself to eat raw oysters when I first visited Paris, but I chickened out. I imagined raw oysters to be alive and squiggly, dirty with ocean grit. I imagined that on putting the oyster in my mouth, I’d have it jump up and down in there before I could swallow it. I was almost fearful of eating raw oysters, but always hoping that I’d eat them some day, get over my fear, and hopefully, like them.
When I was walking around Marché Enfants Rouges in Paris earlier today with my friend, Jennie and her boyfriend, Luis, they suggested we get some oysters. Now, Jennie and I had planned an afternoon of eating, wandering about, and drawing inspiration for our weekly pop-up lunches (which we did, in addition to eating miso soup, tartines at Poilâne’s Cuisine de Bar, and sipping on Moroccan mint tea). But oysters did not feature on that list. Thinking this just might be the day I eat raw oysters, I agreed, with the disclaimer that I might back out at the eleventh hour.
A plate of 6 oysters arrived at the table. In another plate was a shot glass filled with red wine vinegar, a wedge of lemon and a tiny wheel of butter. My heart raced, unsure if I would go through with this.
First, I watched Jennie, a recent oyster convert, eat her oyster. She detached it from the shell, drained off a bit off the sea water (she finds it too overpowering) and squeezed some lemon before she slid it into her mouth. She smiled, and I felt a bit of relief.
Look, taste, slurp, swallow.Photo credit: Jennie. Oyster eating credit: Jennie and Luis.
My turn. I picked up an oyster from the bed of seaweed it was sitting on and opened the shucked bivalve. I nearly butchered it trying to detach it from the shell like an amateur. I drained off the seawater, squeezed on the lemon and popped it into my mouth. It slithered into my mouth and slipped right at the back. I let it sit for a couple of seconds wondering what to do next, and then almost immediately swallowed it, slightly scared to bite into it. I should have thought this through: are we supposed to swallow it? Or do we have to bite into it and chew it? Jennie and Luis were at odds: Luis said he always swallows it, while Jennie bites into it once or twice to get some flavour from it.
The other point of contention was whether to keep the sea water in or drain it off. Luis was assertive about retaining it “because that’s where all the flavour is,” he opined. Jennie only drained it out because she found it a wee bit strong, but when eating her next oyster, she had the sea water as well and changed her stance. I did just that in the company of two regular oyster eaters.
How was it? Fun. Exciting. And above all, liberating. I finally got over my fear of eating raw oysters. It wasn’t fishy, it didn’t move and it tasted good. Not just that, I actually loved it. Absolutely. Utterly.
Second oyster: I opened it, squeezed a bit of lemon and this time, I let the sea water sit inside and had it all. I also bit into the oyster once before swallowing it. I loved the citric zing, I loved the feeling of the slippery oyster in my mouth, I loved the smell of the ocean. I loved it all.
Close to where I live there’s an oyster man who sets up a table right outside the boulangerie every Sunday morning (now you where to find me). Hopefully, he’ll be nice and teach me how to shuck them and we’ll eat oysters right there.
Now, to make up for lost time. Also, next goal: escargot.
Osyters at L’EastaminetMarché Enfants Rouges,
39 Rue de Bretagne.
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