Gems from the mist and mud
Oyster farming kind of shucks!
Hello everyone! Happy, Happy New Year – and a big welcome to those of you who recently subscribed. There’s a lot of fun food and travel stories in store for this newsletter in 2024 and I’m glad you’ve come along for the ride.
Without further ado – today’s newsletter is about a French holiday tradition and the dedicated farmers who make it happen. Let me know in the comments your favorite traditions to ring in the new year!
On New Year’s Eve in France, there is a certain salty smell in the air. It’s stronger than the usual mist that sometimes wafts off of the Mediterranean in the winter in Nice. I noticed it this year when I left my house for an afternoon walk on an unusually gray and damp December 31.
A few blocks away, there was a commotion in front of what is generally a sleepy local grocery store. A white tent had been set up and crates were being unloaded from the back of an open box truck. Customers in black coats blocked the view of what was being sold. I stared at it for a moment before I remembered that eating raw oysters on New Year’s Eve is a beloved French tradition.
It was a similarly gray day when, in a parking lot in front of the Atlantic Ocean on France’s Ile de Ré, we pulled on yellow fisherman’s smocks and tall black boots and climbed aboard the back of a flatbed trailer. The tractor started up and we lurched forward trying to catch our balance with one hand and operate a camera with the other. We were on assignment for Eater to film a story about the production of French oysters with a family who had been growing them for five generations.
As we started our descent down a ramp toward the ocean, oyster farmer David Flores Prieto checked the tides on an app on his phone. Conditions looked good, he said, but it would still be a race against time to load the juvenile oyster sacks onto the trailer and transport them to another part of the oyster park where the deeper water would bring in more plankton for them to eat.
It was physical work. The heavier pouches required two people to flip them and brush off any algae that would hinder the growth of the oyster. Every morning, David and his associate Didier moved the bags around the park, placing them on exactly the right row of iron bars where the conditions would be perfect for the particular age of the oyster.
David opened a bag and pulled out a medium-sized oyster, called No. 3, usually served raw in the half shell. No. 3’s are especially beloved by the French, while the Italians prefer No. 1 and 2 which are larger and can be eaten raw or cooked, David told me.
He shook the oyster in the ocean to rinse the mud off, then used his knife to shuck it in one swift motion.
“Taste it!” he told me. I was hesitant, firstly because raw oysters usually need to go through a purification stage to minimize the risk of illness, and also because, quite honestly, it would be the second raw oyster I ate in my life and I wasn’t a fan of the slippery, chewy texture.
I tried to politely decline, but David insisted, describing the taste as “salt and iodine.” He was right, and to my surprise, the taste of the seawater was somehow pleasant – as if no matter where I ate that oyster, I’d be instantly transported to the mud and mist on Ile de Ré.
After about 90 minutes, the water had risen halfway up the tractor tires and David signaled that we should get back to shore immediately unless we felt like swimming. My lens was covered in mud and I was already starting to feel a bit tired from tromping through the water, but our day was only just beginning.
We spent the afternoon in the oyster shack where various rumbling machines graded, sized, and bagged the oysters to be transported back to the oyster beds. David and his family managed the whole operation, from delicately handling the baby oysters called spat – of which only 25 percent reach adulthood – to the final steps of washing and purification.
I was surprised to learn that the entire process of growing an oyster to edible size takes three to four years, during which period the oyster will return to the shack to be sorted and rebagged at least five or six times. It’s a manual and physically demanding task that requires patience and passion, along with an intuitive knowledge of how the natural environment will affect the growth of the oyster.
I asked David if all the time and intensive labor involved in the process is the reason why oysters are generally considered an expensive food.
He told me that it’s only the restauranteurs who have decided to make oysters expensive. Indeed, at the family’s roadside shop, a dozen oysters were sold for a mere 6 euros.
David didn’t tell us his No. 2 oysters had recently taken gold in the general agriculture contest in Paris – we found that out from one of the many passersby who stopped to buy oysters and a lemon from the shop.
Maybe I haven’t lived in France long enough, but I didn’t mosey over to buy oysters from the white tent near my house on New Year’s Eve. I did wonder though, whether the boxes being unloaded had come from Ile de Ré, or maybe from Ile de Oléron, a larger oyster-growing island a few kilometers to the south.
Although they are relatively accessible in France, oysters, especially raw, still have a reputation for being a food of the upper crust. I love to walk past Cafe de Turin – Nice’s famed seafood restaurant in Place Garibaldi – and see men and women dressed to the nines with a sweating bottle of white wine and a large plate of oysters in front of them. I smile to myself when I think about the fact that before they landed on ice with a slice of lemon, those same oysters spent four years covered in mud, battered by the ocean’s angry wind and rain – and that’s the story they bring to even the fanciest of tables.
Check out the full video for Eater:
How do you feel about eating raw oysters? What’s your go-to meal on New Year’s Eve? Let’s chat in the comments!
About a year ago I was at a market with my family in Lamalou-les-Bains and my youngest daughter had her first oyster. She was shocked by it but has since become a fan! Thanks for the story - I learned a lot!
Aww that’s so sweet! Maybe one day you’ll take her to Ile de Re! It’s a wonderful vacation spot.