Oysters: food of the gods or the devil’s own delicacy? — theguardian.com

Few foods prompt a stronger reaction. Offer round a plate of plump, creamy oysters, nestling in their half shells, bathed in their own salty juices, and people will literally recoil as you approach. You might as well be offering sprouts to six-year-olds. I know this because I was a longtime recoiler. Just the thought of that quivering meat, the gnarly packaging, the rawness – in fact, let’s be honest, the aliveness – of the oyster, was enough to make my face scrunch into the oyster-hater’s “Eugh” of horror. Give me a freshly boiled crab and a mallet: fine. A pile of steaming mussels: no problem. A pot of prawns, briefly barbecued, their beady eyes and whiskers still attached: delicious. Vibrant sashimi: gorgeous. But oysters? No thanks.

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