Overheard at the LFGSS golf club bar

I've got an oyster knife. It was cheap and looks like it was made for hair net wearing fish processing workers to use. Of course, I only use it when sipping vermouth and preparing shared plates in my home counties maximalist chic garden.

Please an opinel oyster knife. It is all about the opinel brand and being made in France...

@somethingclever - Now this is anti golf club, but oysters are plentiful in the Thames estuary and south east so part of likes the idea of grabbing some fresh from the sea and opening them and eating them. Feels like a marlboro man moment, standing in a dinghy dressed as a cowboy ;). But with my luck I will poison myself. Have eat oysters in restaurant and home but don’t they do something the the oysters to clean them out and make them easier to open some sort of washing?

@fadooks This thread has developed, to a parody and people even try to get posted to this thread.

This is what Anthony Boudain had to say about oysters (straight quote so language not mine and maybe not his the quote was from the internet but matches my memory from reading his book.

“Monsiuer Saint Jour (the oyster fisher), on hearing this – as if
challenging his American passengers – inquired in his thick Girondais
accent, if any of us would care to try an oyster. My parents
hesitated. I doubt they’d realized they might actually have to eat one
of the raw, slimy things we were currently floating over. My little
brother recoiled in horror. But I, in the proudest moment of my young
life, stood up smartly, grinning with defiance, and volunteered to be
the first. And in that unforgettably sweet moment of my personal
history, that moment still more alive for me than so many of the other
‘firsts’ which followed – first pussy, first joint, first day in high
school, first published book, or any other thing – I attained glory.
Monsieur Saint-Jour beckoned me over to the gunwale, where he leaned
over, reached down until his head nearly disappeared underwater, and
emerged holding a single silt-encrusted oyster, huge and irregularly
shaped, in his rough, claw like fist. With a snubby, rust covered
oyster knife, he popped the thing open and handed it to me, everyone
watching now, my little brother shrinking away from this glistening,
vaguely sexual-looking object, still dripping and nearly alive. I took
it in my hand, tilted the shell back into my mouth as instructed by
the by now beaming Monsieur Saint-Jour, and with one bite and a slurp,
wolfed it down. It tasted seawater… of brine and flesh… and somehow…
of the future. I’d not only survived – I’d enjoyed. This, I knew, was
the magic I had until now only dimly and spitefully aware of. I was
hooked. My parents’ shudders, my little brother’s expression of
unrestrained revulsion and amazement only reinforced the sense that I
had, somehow, become a man. I had had an adventure, tasted forbidden
fruit, and everything that followed in my life – the food, the long
and often stupid and self-destructive chase for the next thing,
whether it was drugs or sex or some other new sensation – would all
stem from this moment. I’d learned something. Viscerally,
instinctively, spiritually – even in some precursive way, sexually –
and there was no turning back. The genie was out of the bottle.”

@almac68 I have a pradel too, most pradels are made in PRC and designed in France.

@Coops Not a good idea as can damage the oyster shell and then get shell in to your oyster.

@Acliff Don’t think an oyster knife is supposed to be sharp, just able to open the oyster and not damage the shell but with alot of use I suspect the blade will sharpen against the oyster shell.

To will it is friday....