"But who in their right mind would ever want to eat tinned oysters?" I hear you scoff. Well, I'll tell you: Yotam Ottolenghi, that's who. Yes, he of the fancy patisserie-cum-restaurants frequented by the yummy-mummies of Islington and Kensington, whose recipes come with an ingredients list as long as your arm and at least one item you've never heard of - he bloody loves them. "I often have them just on bread," he says, "I always keep a respectable stash, way more than I would ever use at one time, just to avoid the remote possibility of running out". Unlike Nathan Outlaw and Simon Hopkinson though with their tinned hotdogs and marrowfat peas, he doesn't even consider them as a guilty pleasure, using them in a number of his recipes, including a fish pie and some tasty-sounding mini-quiches. As I'm not cooking for that "special someone" though, I decide to keep it simple and opt for his suggestion of pasta with a tomatoey smoked oyster sauce, which is not so much a recipe as a rough set of guidelines.
Like John West's dressed lobster, the oysters come in a plain tin within a cardboard box, proclaiming their "SMOKED GREAT TASTE" on the front. The smokiness certainly hits you as soon as you open the tin - the smell is so strong I wonder at first whether I am going to find "artificial smoke flavouring" on the ingredients list, but in fact these are the real deal, with the tin containing "wood smoked oysters, sunflower oil, salt" and nothing else.
As perhaps to be expected from the smoking process, they are a more golden brown colour than fresh oysters, but otherwise look much the same, with that slightly intimidating, unappetising appearance that makes you question whether you really want to put it in your mouth or not. Ahem. I take the plunge though, trying one straight from the tin before I start cooking. The "SMOKED GREAT TASTE" is quite extraordinary - like the initial smell, it is incredibly strong (well worthy of those capital letters), dominating the flavour of the oysters - there is only the slightest hint of that briny seafood taste you would get from fresh ones. Perhaps not surprisingly it gives the oyster an almost bacon-like flavour, which in my book is no bad thing.
Indeed, pork and seafood are often served up together as they compliment each other so well, with the strong, salty pork countered by the sweet creaminess of the seafood. As these smoked oysters pack such a serious punch themselves though, if you were to combine them with bacon or chorizo, you get the sense the two would be fighting each other for dominance.
The texture is also not quite what I expected; compared to fresh, these have a much denser, almost chalky feel to them. It is a little like the way a piece of lightly cooked liver feels between the teeth, which might sound extremely off-putting to some, but I rather like it. Mr Ottolenghi may be on to something with these.
Following his suggestions, I soften half an onion in the oil from the oysters, followed by a tin of tomatoes, a few sprigs of thyme but no parsley as I forgot to buy any. I decide to push the boat out with some Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Pomodori D'Oro plum tomatoes, which seem a little sweeter than your average tinned tomato, but it's more a case of Look At the Difference, as their USP is that they are a yellow variety. Given that it is Valentine's Day I suppose really should stick with standard ones to keep things nice and red, but I'd had these in the cupboard for a while and had been waiting for a special occasion to give them a try. At least that's what I would have told my other half, had I been cooking for one - in fact they are out of date, so need using up. Who said romance is dead?
Meanwhile, the pasta goes on - Ottolenghi suggests conchiglie, which would work quite well with the oysters nestling in to the pasta shells. I go for tagliatelle as it is all I have in, but one of the longer types of pasta is perhaps more appropriate anyway, for those wishing to recreate the famous spaghetti and meatballs scene from Lady and the Tramp. In the last few minutes, the oysters are added to the tomato sauce and given a good stir. The pasta is then drained and tossed with the sauce, and the whole lot served up with a final grind of pepper.
For so simple a dish, it's surprisingly good - the oysters and their oil have certainly imparted their flavour to the sauce, but this is nicely countered by the sweetness of the tomatoes. The oysters perhaps could have gone in even nearer the end of cooking; the very smallest ones are already ever so slightly chewy (as can happen with liver if cooked too long) but the larger ones are still excellent. All in all, it's a very tasty meal indeed, and one which I would be quite happy to serve up for a loved one. I have a strong desire to lick the plate clean, in fact - could that just be due to the oysters' "SMOKED GREAT TASTE", or is it their supposed aphrodisiacal properties creating this caveman-like urge within me? Or am I just a bit greedy and a messy eater? I think, alas, the latter. But at least there's no-one around to judge me for doing so.
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