Oysters haven’t been especially easy to get at my local farmers' market lately. The fish man hasn’t had any. The autumn was warm and he lost a fair bit of stock, he says, so he stopped selling them for a while. But on Saturday he had some – well, just six, so I bought them. They were biggies – and cost 1.50 rather than the usual pound.
|Photo by Luna Woodyear-Smith.|
When I say they were whoppers I should perhaps say they were monsters, which is also to say it was one heck of job to get them open. And one of them looked a bit dodgy so here are the other five.
|Photo by Luna Yearwood-Smith.|
In fact the job was so Herculean that I broke my oyster knife on one of them. My oyster knife isn’t especially treasured but I’ve always thought it was pretty serviceable. So I was reduced to using the point of a knife and that broke too. This adds to the pain (and the cost) of the pleasure.
The oysters' revenge.
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