“As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.”
-- Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
For any true lover of Paris, upon landing, one must make a beeline for their favorite oyster bar and have a dozen or so with a glass of flinty Sancerre and crusty French bread.
For those wanting the best of the best, the (120 years old) Gillardeau family oysters ( from Rochefort) are the Rolls Royce of the bi-valves. They only grow speciales; which are plumper than the standard oyster.
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