For me, if there's anything that would represent me and my style of cooking, it would be a seafood platter. Maybe a perfectly shucked oyster with a bit of lemon and cocktail sauce or mignonette sauce.
Once (says an Author; where I need not say) Two Trav'lers found an Oyster in their way; Both fierce, both hungry; the dispute grew stong; While Scale in Hand Dame Justice pass'd along Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws. Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause, Dame Justice wighing long the doubtful Right Takes, opens, swallows it, before their sight. The cause of strife remov'd so rarely well, "There take" (says Justice), "take ye each a shell. We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you: 'Twas a fat oyster - live in peace - Adieu. "
A typical Christmas is me shucking oysters. I love them and I always get them in at Christmas.
Venice is a cheek-by-jowl, back-of-the-hand, under-the-counter, higgledy-piggledy, anecdotal city, and she is rich in piquant wrinkled things, like an assortment of bric-a-brac in the house of a wayward connoisseur, or parasites on an oyster-shell.
No argument can persuade me to like oysters if I do not like them. In other words, the disturbing thing about matters of taste is that they are not communicable.
Within the oyster's shell uncouth The purest pearl may hide, Trust me you'll find a heart of truth Within that rough outside.
We can conceive a thinking being to have either many or few perceptions. Suppose the mind to be reduced even below the life of anoyster. Suppose it to have only one perception, as of thirst or hunger. Consider it in that situation. Do you conceive any thing but merely that perception? Have you any notion of self or substance? If not, the addition of other perceptions can never give you that notion.
I had my first French meal and I never got over it. It was just marvelous. We had oysters and a lovely dry white wine. And then we had one of those lovely scalloped dishes and the lovely, creamery buttery sauce. Then we had a roast duck and I don't know what else.
A lover's a liar, To himself he lies, The truthful are loveless, Like oysters their eyes!
Now I'm beginning to live a little and feel less like a sick oyster at low tide.
I live absolutely like an oyster.
We also have favourite place in France, called Charlot Premier in Nice, which does excellent oysters.
The world is your oyster. . . . . . too bad you're allergic to shellfish.
Sorrow, it is said, will make even an oyster feel poetical. I never tried my hand at that sort of writing but on this particular occasion such was my state of feeling, that I began to fancy myself inspired; so I took pen in hand, and as usual I went ahead.
James Delaney as an individual is sort of like a grain of sand in an oyster who is irritating all of them. But for me he's a creature of the time, like the industrialists who started the Industrial Revolution who extricated themselves from their class and their background
He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.
Only that I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready in half an hour. I have oysters and a brace of grouse, with something a little choice in white wines. Watson, you have never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper. ~ Sherlock Holmes
Minds are like oysters. They spoil if you pry them open.
Until I saw Chardin's painting, I never realized how much beauty lay around me in my parents' house, in the half-cleared table, in the corner of a tablecloth left awry, in the knife beside the empty oyster shell.
Be as bold as the first man or [woman] to eat an oyster.
