Читать книгу One More Croissant for the Road онлайн

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Holding his prize carefully lest it spill out, Gildas, victorious over the shellfish at last, explains that the creature weighs about 180g, well over twice as much as the others, and will need to be tackled with a special knife, which he will lend me for the purpose. The assembled crowd goggles as I escort my victim over to the sea wall, where Matt is already sitting with his slightly more modest order. He raises one eyebrow, which in Matt terms is pretty serious stuff, and don’t I know it. I like oysters you can eat in one gulp, that are easy to chew and slip down as smoothly as an ice-cold martini, not ones with the strength to fight back in your digestive system. Nevertheless, I’ve paid to have this chap’s shell wrenched off, and he deserves to be done justice, if you count being eaten alive as justice, though now definitely isn’t the time to go into that particular argument.

I unfold the sturdy knife Gildas has provided and nervously begin to divide the creature into vaguely edible portions, silently begging for forgiveness as I perform this gruesome but necessary live butchery, and then, conscious of the expectant gaze of not just Matt, but several other diners, tip the first chunk into my mouth and begin to chew. It’s better than I expect, more scallopy, but with a definite meaty texture, and a surprisingly harsh, almost tannic finish. Not unpleasant exactly, but for reasons as much psychological as gastronomic, I can’t say I enjoy the remaining four bits. After a bit of a breather (if only I’d known you could buy chilled wine to take away at the shop round the corner), I tackle his smaller, sweeter relatives, who prove far more to my taste, though frankly, once the last shell is tossed onto the beach below, joining the thousands already piled up there, I feel I wouldn’t be sorry not to see an oyster again for a good while.