Tuesday, 10 August 2010
Russian Roulette - Seafood Style
...Ah! here's where to begin.
I'm celebrating the end of a rare continental trip that neither required a trip to a hospital nor a pharmacy. Normally I am the one in the wars, most commonly with digestive system breakdown, probably caused by too much wine, white bread and red meat. However, the most dramatic incident has to be my fall from a towpath bench whilst demonstrating my balancing prowess to Louis. Things went badly wrong as the top of the seat wasn't attached to the tree stumps it was resting on and I was propelled into a ditch. This resulted in a valiant rescue operation involving an elderly mud-caked French farmer and a month off work with a badly sprained ankle.
Our first salty starter passed without incident and was a bit of a revelation. I have to say that rather than their usual uncooked chums, I now prefer my oysters to be lightly steamed. They retained their lovely distinctive salty flavour but had a firmer texture. But whilst I enjoyed the fruits of my second seafood harvest Mr Lovelygrey did not. After passing an unpleasant night communing with the Porta Potti he has made a new decree. 'No ingestion of shellfish on a motorhome holiday'
This outcome is a little disappointing. I enjoy communing with nature and collecting the tasty little blighters and have to say that eating them is a pleasure that I'm reluctant to relinquish too. Surely a gaggle of French people with rakes and waders cannot be wrong! Maybe Bretons have specially adapted lead lined stomachs but I'm hoping that this is not the case. Fingers crossed that a bit of research might yield a tried and tested technique to eliminate food poisoning so that Mr Lovelygrey will allow shellfish to once more grace the van's frying pan again.