Barbra Austin

Should someone come to his senses in the next day or so, this is what we’ll be eating on Sunday.

At La Cabane à Huitres, you can eat the only oysters in France still cultivated in direct contact with the sand and mud of the sea, without a protective bag. Francis Dubourg, the patron and a fourth generation ostréiculteur in the Arcachon basin, says he is the last one in France to do it this way, and he does it in the name of that very French concept of terroir. The sacks, you see, act as a kind of filter, and M. Dubourg believes that his oysters are more flavorful for being grown in the buff.

I went to L’Écume St. Honoré for a half dozen spéciales, but it’s a single scallop that I keep thinking about.

I give a lot of credit to my friend Philippa, who never having eaten a single oyster, had the courage to join me for lunch at Huitrerie Régis, where there is a minimum order of a dozen per person. In turn, she gives me credit for having convinced her to try several foods for the first time, including marrow, sweetbreads, and fava beans, all of which she was rather surprised to learn she liked. Still, she would rather die than let a tomato touch her lips.