Fishy Business
I've always gone on and on about Wheeler's Oyster Bar to Eugene, and this trip to London, we finally made it there together, thanks to Xian who kept the day free to drive us to Whitstable.
It was a beautiful sunny morning when we set out from London, but Whitstable had gotten the memo late, and it was still pretty chilly when we first arrived. The locals were sensibly clad in coats and trousers, but the crazies in sundresses and bare legs - obviously from London.
We took a cursory look at the fishmarket
Where Xian and I discovered that sole cost more than God. Something's not right in this world.
Eugene was glad to discover that I did not exaggerate the culinary delights of Wheeler's. Alas when our two dozen oysters arrived, we attacked them with such relish, we neglected to take photos. But you know and I know that Whitstable's rock oysters are the bomb. The native oysters only come in season at the end of the year, but we made do with the regular stuff and were alarmingly happy.
Halibut, hake, sea bass, lobster, apple tatin and chocolate fondant with home-made ice cream. And very happy people.
Xian's always allergic to fresh seafood, and for the first time in my life, I broke out in hives as well. Perhaps these were sympathy hives. Nothing a jolly ramble and an antihistamine could not cure though.
It had turned gorgeous by the time lunch was over, so we strolled along the sea. I observed nutters tanning in bikinis. Rather unfathomable behaviour. We're talking about a working fishing port here. Would you tan by a fishmarket? And it was an uncomfortable pebble beach to boot! The English are mad as hatters sometimes.
Sea-going vessels
In all it was a lovely day. You happy, I happy, everybody happy. What else is there to say right?
*Photos courtesy of Eugene
It was a beautiful sunny morning when we set out from London, but Whitstable had gotten the memo late, and it was still pretty chilly when we first arrived. The locals were sensibly clad in coats and trousers, but the crazies in sundresses and bare legs - obviously from London.
We took a cursory look at the fishmarket
Where Xian and I discovered that sole cost more than God. Something's not right in this world.
Eugene was glad to discover that I did not exaggerate the culinary delights of Wheeler's. Alas when our two dozen oysters arrived, we attacked them with such relish, we neglected to take photos. But you know and I know that Whitstable's rock oysters are the bomb. The native oysters only come in season at the end of the year, but we made do with the regular stuff and were alarmingly happy.
Halibut, hake, sea bass, lobster, apple tatin and chocolate fondant with home-made ice cream. And very happy people.
Xian's always allergic to fresh seafood, and for the first time in my life, I broke out in hives as well. Perhaps these were sympathy hives. Nothing a jolly ramble and an antihistamine could not cure though.
It had turned gorgeous by the time lunch was over, so we strolled along the sea. I observed nutters tanning in bikinis. Rather unfathomable behaviour. We're talking about a working fishing port here. Would you tan by a fishmarket? And it was an uncomfortable pebble beach to boot! The English are mad as hatters sometimes.
Sea-going vessels
In all it was a lovely day. You happy, I happy, everybody happy. What else is there to say right?
*Photos courtesy of Eugene