Tuesday, December 7, 2021



         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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