The Old Forge




No food beckons in quite the same way as an oyster on its open shell.  Ridiculously sexy, salty, juicy, quivering things that they are.  Yet the oyster does not appeal to everyone, possibly because of its association with smart city restaurants where they are consumed out of bravado as much as for flavour.  Only the wasteful, the crusty and the frigid take them down in one gulp.  Suck, gulp, gone.  What a waste.  Chewing an oyster, even slightly, releases the salty, fishy tang.  And then it slides down.  Local Blakeney oysters are some of the best in the country, the oyster beds being off the coast at Blakeney.  An oyster is just as good to eat once cooked.  It is just different.  Those who get snooty about cooking oysters are missing some good food.  Dropped wet, wobbly and lightly floured into a pan of shallow, frothing butter, they are done in a minute.  Maybe less.  The alarm bell sounds when their edges start to curl.  They will be lightly crisp outside (eat them quickly before they soften), their insides all trembling, creamy flesh.  As seductive a mouthful as it is possible to imagine.