As a young person growing up in Kansas, I couldn’t imagine anything more disgusting than a raw oyster. They seemed slimy, stinky and squirmy – why would any sane person want to pop one in their mouth?
I managed to avoid the mollusc until I was 25 years old, when I was confronted by a raw bar at a friend’s wedding. Trying to fit in at this chic affair, I swallowed my inhibitions and a couple of oysters. To my surprise, I didn’t die. I ate oysters a few more times while living in Boston, but never with much enthusiasm.
That all changed when I moved to France, where fresh oysters during winter are part of the culture. There are more huîtres consumed here than in any other country – around 130,000 per year. The majority are pried from gleaming seafood platters in polished restaurants and brasseries. But my favorite place to eat them is on the hood of a parked car.
> Read the rest of this review at The Girls’ Guide to Paris
> Read other trusted reviews on Le Baron Rouge at Paris by Mouth
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Very nice piece (I did read it all at the posted link) and it is good to see the photo of the “half pint with the half shells” again (from an Edible Advent post). She is so cute!
I have yet to try huîtres. My fiancé, who is American but will have lived here in Paris 20 years at the end of this year, hates them. But I am hoping to find a friend or two who might be game to introduce me. I have had them smoked, out of a jar, but never on the half shell with lemon. I’d give it a try!
Being from Kansas, did you ever eat any Rocky Mountain Oysters from the state to the west of y’all?
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