Oysters Quotes

“Memory in these incomparable streets, in mosaics of pain and sweetness, was clear to me now, a unity at last. I remembered small and unimportant things from the past: the whispers of roommates during thunderstorms, the smell of brass polish on my fingertips, the first swim at Folly Beach in April, lightning over the Atlantic, shelling oysters at Bowen's Island during a rare Carolina snowstorm, pigeons strutting across the graveyard at St. Philip's, lawyers moving out of their offices to lunch on Broad Street, the darkness of reveille on cold winter mornings, regattas, the flash of bagpipers' tartans passing in review, blue herons on the marshes, the pressure of the chinstrap on my shako, brotherhood, shad roe at Henry's, camellias floating above water in a porcelain bowl, the scowl of Mark Santoro, and brotherhood again.”
― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline

“The oyster was an animal worthy of New Orleans, as mysterious and private and beautiful as the city itself. If one could accept that oysters build their houses out of their lives, one could imagine the same of New Orleans, whose houses were similarly and resolutely shuttered against an outside world that could never be trusted to show proper sensitivity toward the oozing delicacies within.”
― Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

“Whatever you may know, you you cannot be truly efficient ministers if you are not "apt to teach." You know ministers who have mistaken their calling, and evidently have no gifts for it: make sure that none think the same of you. There are brethren in the ministry whose speech is intolerable; either they rouse you to wrath, or else they send you to sleep. No chloral can ever equal some discourses in sleep-giving properties; no human being, unless gifted with infinite patience, could long endure to listen to them, and nature does well to give the victim deliverance through sleep. I heard one say the other day that a certain preacher had no more gifts for the ministry than an oyster, and in my own judgment this was a slander on the oyster, for that worthy bivalve shows great discretion in his openings, and knows when to close. If some men were sentenced to hear their own sermons, it would be a righteous judgement upon them, and they would soon cry out with Cain, "My punishment is greater than I can bear." Let us not fall under the same condemnation.”
― Charles H. Spurgeon

“There are three kinds of oyster-eaters: those loose-minded sports who will eat anything, hot, cold, thin, thick, dead or alive, as long as it is oyster, those who will eat them raw and only raw; and those who with equal severity will eat them cooked and no way other.

The first group may perhaps have the most fun, although there is a white fire about the others' bigotry that can never warm the broad-minded.”
― MFK Fisher

“Men's ideas, though, continue to run in the old channels about oysters as well as God and war and women. Even when they know better they insist that months with R in them are all right, but that oysters in June or July or May or August will kill you or make you wish they had. This is wrong, of course, except that all oysters, like all men, are somewhat weaker after they have done their best at reproducing.”
― MFK Fisher

“She might have managed to swerve through the crowds to rescue Henry, but that tray of oysters came by and she was distracted. She took one and a lemon, squeezing it so hard the juice stung her eye. 'Fair price,' she thought as she tipped the oyster into her mouth.
It slid down her throat, with an echo of the sea, the siren song of salt and rock and dark depths.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Sparrow Sisters

“Everything was different now. Everything. I'd not only survived - I'd enjoyed.”
― Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

“It was salty, it was sweet, it was fishy, it was liquor, it was like a deep breath of seaweedy air and a mouthful of sea spray all at once. He bit once, involuntarily, and felt the flavors in his mouth swell and burst like a wave. Before he knew what he had done he had swallowed, and then there was another sensation; another flavor, as the soft shapeless mass wriggled past the back of his throat, leaving a faint, cool aftertaste of brine.
He felt a sudden sense that nothing would be the same again. Eve in her garden had bitten an apple. James had eaten an oyster, sitting outside a tiny restaurant overlooking the sea by Sorrento. His undernourished heart swelled in the Italian sunshine like a ripening fig and he laughed out loud. With a great flood of gratitude he realized that he was having the time of his life.”
― Anthony Capella, The Wedding Officer

“The restaurant owner brought them wine, pale and golden and cool. There were just four oysters each, and when they were all gone they turned their attention to the cecinella. After the soft shapeless texture of the oysters these were almost the opposite: hard, crunchy skeletons whose flavor was all on the outside, a crisp bite of garlic and peperone that dissolved to nothing in your mouth. The ricci, or sea urchins, were another taste again, salty and exotic and rich. It was hard to believe that he had once thought they could be an austerity measure. After that they were brought without being asked a dish of baby octopus, cooked with tomatoes and wine mixed with the rich, gamey ink of a squid.
For dessert the owner brought them two peaches. Their skins were wrinkled and almost bruised, but the flesh, when James cut into it with his knife, was unspoiled and perfectly ripe, so dark it was almost black. He was about to put a slice into his mouth when Livia stopped him.
"Not like that. This is how we eat peaches here."
She cut a chunk from the peach into her wine, then held the glass to his lips. He took it, tipping the wine and fruit together into his mouth. It was a delicious, sensual cascade of sensations, the sweet wine and the sweet peach rolling around his mouth before finally, he had to bite it, releasing the fruit's sugary juices. It was like the oyster all over again, a completely undreamt-of experience, and one that he found stirringly sexual, in some strange way that he couldn't have defined.”
― Anthony Capella, The Wedding Officer

“Though [New Yorkers] live by the sea, they take vacations to go somewhere else to be by the sea. Of the many odd things about New Yorkers, there is this: How is it that people living in the world’s greatest port, a city with no neighborhood that is far from a waterfront, a city whose location was chosen because of the sea, where the great cargo ships and tankers, mighty little tugs, yachts, and harbor patrol boats glide by, has lost all connection with the sea, almost forgotten that the sea is there?”
― Mark Kurlansky, The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell

“The fish vendor had delivered a sea of heavenly delights. Les gambas, large shrimp, were the size of my hand. Once cooked, they'd be lovely and pink. The oysters were enormous and beautiful, the briny scent conjuring up the sea. I couldn't remember the last time I'd swum in open water. Six years ago on a Sunday trip to the Hamptons with Eric? Oh God, I didn't want to think about him.
Besides the work of shucking more than three hundred of them, oysters were easy. They'd be served raw with a mignonette sauce and lemons, along with crayfish, crab, and shrimp, accompanied by a saffron-infused aioli dipping sauce.
I lifted the top of another crate, and fifty or so lobsters with spiny backs greeted me- beautiful and big, and the top portion freckled by the sea. I loved working with lobster, the way their color changed from mottled brown and orange to a fiery red when cooked. I'd use the tails for le plat principal, flambéed in cognac and simmered in a spicy tomato- my version of my grandmother's recipe for langouste à la armoricaine. The garnish? A sprig of fresh rosemary.
The other crates were filled with lovely mussels, scallops, whelks, and smoked salmon filets, along with another surprise- escargots. Save for the snails, this meal would be a true seafood extravaganza.”
― Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

“CHRISTMAS EVE MENU

Foie Gras with Caramelized Apples

Salmon with Lemon, Cucumber, and Dill, served on Small Rounds of Toasted Bread

Escargots de Bourgogne

Oysters with a Mignonette Sauce

Oysters with Pimento Peppers and Apple Cider Vinegar

Oysters Rockefeller, deglazed with Pernod, served with Spinach, Pimento Peppers, and Lardons

Sophie's Spiced Langouste (Spiny Lobster) à l'Armoricaine

Crayfish, Crab, and Shrimp with a Saffron-Infused Aioli Dipping Sauce

Moules à la Plancha with Chorizo

Selection of the Château's Cheeses

Three Varieties of Bûche de Noël


The kitchen staff walked in as I threw the chalk on the counter. Phillipa snuck up behind me. "Oh my God. That menu looks wicked incredible. I'm already drooling."
Clothilde nodded her head in approval. "It's perfect. You've made your grandmother proud."
"How many bûches do you think we'll need?" asked Gustave, referring to the celebrated and traditional log cakes served in every French restaurant and household sometime during the holiday season.
"Twenty?" I answered.
"Good thing I started on them a few days ago," he said. "Pineapple and mango, chocolate and praline, and vanilla and chestnut."
"No alcohol?" I asked.
"Maybe just a pinch of Armagnac." He held up his forefinger and thumb. Looked like more than a pinch.”
― Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

“There is a species of taverns of a lower denomination, which, however, are sometimes resorted to by good company, when disposed to enjoy a frolic. These are the oyster-cellars, a sort of ale-houses, where the proper entertainment of the house is oysters, punch and porter. Most of the oyster-houses have a sort of long room, where a small party may enjoy the exercise of a country dance, to the music of a fiddle, harp, or bag-pipe. But the equivocal character of these houses of resort prevents them from being visited by any of the fair sex who seek the praise of delicacy, or pique themselves on propriety of conduct.”
― Hugo Arnot, The History of Edinburgh

“East Coast oysters are brinier, more mineral. West Coasts are plumper, creamier, sweeter. They're even physically different. One has a flat cup, the other tends to be deeper.”
― Stephanie Danler, Sweetbitter

“Oysters release their eggs from around August to September. So during this time, they are small and don't taste good. They gradually start to put on weight again after that.
And when the snow on the mountains melt and the water flows into the sea from the river, the oysters taste even better. Snow melt is rich in nutrients, and the plankton grows on that. The oysters eat the plankton and grow larger.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“First I shell the oysters, then coat them with flour...
... and I deep-fry that. I make a sauce with soy sauce, ground sesame, sesame oil, chili pepper and some mirin. And I dip the oysters in the sauce.
Here you are. Give it a try. Deep fried oysters and kimchi over rice!"
"Ah, this smells great! "
"Let's eat!"
"Ooh! The oysters have been fried perfectly! They're soft and when you bite into them, the juice comes spurting out...
... and the flavor of the oyster combined with the sourness and spiciness of the kimchi creates a wonderfully complex taste!"
"Yeah! The deep-fried oysters go great with the kimchi!"
"It would have been a bit heavy with just the fried oysters...
... but the hot and sour flavor of the kimchi makes this very tasty!”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“CHRISTMAS EVE MENU

Foie gras with Caramelized Apples

Salmon with lemon, Cucumber, and Dill, served on Small Rounds of Toasted Bread


Escargots de Bourgogne



Oysters Three Ways

Oysters with a Mignonette Sauce

Oysters with Pimento Peppers and Apple Cider Vinegar

Oysters Rockefeller, deglazed with Pernod, served with Spinach, Pimento Pepper, and Lardons



Sophie's Spiced Langoustes (Spiny Lobster) à l'Armoricaine
AND
Crayfish and Shrimp with a Saffron-infused Aioli Dipping Sauce
AND
Moules à la Plancha with Chorizo”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“Tycoons with inlets in Maryland have their highfalutin molluscs flown for supper that night to a penthouse in Fort Worth, or to a simple log-cabin Away from It All in the Michigan woods, and know that Space and Time and even the development of putrescent bacteria stand still for dollars.”
― M.F.K. Fisher, Consider the Oyster

“And for the person who likes oysters, such a delicate, charming, nostalgic gesture would seem so delicate, so nostalgically charming, so reminiscent of a thousand good mouthfuls here and there in the past...in other words, so sensible...that it would make even nostalgia less a perversion than a lusty bit of nourishment.”
― MFK Fisher

“Why, Hang Town Fry...I remember once..."

Then, for a few minutes or seconds before the part he has been playing so long submerges his real thinking self, and smudges all the outlines into those of a campus character, you see what this big deaf lost man must have been, one night down near the Ferry Building when he ate Hang...Town...Fry...”
― MFK Fisher

“Bagna càuda with a plentiful variety of steamed winter vegetables and a rich anchovy sauce, thinly cut slices of warmed salt pork, a tofu and leek gratin, rice cooked in an earthenware pot with vegetables and chopped oysters, and miso soup--- the dishes had a vitality to them which came from using only the freshest ingredients, and though the seasoning was unobtrusive, all the flavors had pleasing depth. Weren't oysters supposed to be good for fertility? Rika thought as she brought to her lips a mouthful of rice enriched with soy sauce, whose smell put her in mind of the sea, shooting a glance over at her friend. She realized that she had more of an appetite than she could remember having in a long time, and that if this was largely owing to how delicious the food was, it was also in part to do with the way Ryōsuke ate, as if in a state of ecstasy.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“The oysters arrived on a deep bed of ice. She had never eaten an oyster, and she stared down at the platter. A ruffle of black encircled each opalescent heart; she thought of orchids. Triangles of lemon sat on the ice, and she picked one up and squeezed it, inhaling the prickly aroma. Then she reached for an oyster, tipped her head, and tossed it back. The oyster was cool and slippery, the flavor so briny it was like diving into the ocean. She closed her eyes to savor the experience, make it last.”
― Ruth Reichl, The Paris Novel

“Auld Reekie's sons blyth faces wear,
September's merry month is near,
That brings in Neptune's caller chere,
New oysters fresh;
The halesomest and nicest gear
Of fish or flesh.

Whan big as burns the gutters rin,
Gin ye hae catcht a drookit skin,
To Luckie Middlemist's loup in,
And sit fair snug
O'er oysters and a dram o' gin,
Or haddock lug.”
― Robert Fergusson, Poems of Fergusson