Don’t worry dear... why Colchester will survive Oystergate just like Mr Winner (From Gazette)

Don’t worry dear... why Colchester will survive Oystergate just like Mr Winner

1:10am Sunday 20th September 2009

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The Oyster. It’s a strange little beastie, not that pleasing on the eye, difficult to get into and difficult for some to stomach, rather like a Katie Price birthday bash.

Back in the mists of time, our earliest ancestors were gouging holes in their hands trying to open them and gobbling them down with gusto, while others said “urgh, no thanks, they look like nose fluid. Can I have a bit more mud and twigs instead please?”

In Roman times, local oysters were so renowned, they were apparently transported from this area to Rome for consumption in as little as five days.

In 1594, an author called John Norden said Essex produced the best oysters in the country, from the area between St Peter’s Chapel and Crouch Creeks.

By 1808, rivalry between the two major Essex oyster centres reached such a fever pitch, 35 vessels from Brighlingsea, packed with Colchester oystermen, raided the Crouch beds to destroy them, and a battle ensued.

Such incidents became so common, a police detachment was set up to guard the beds, made up of an inspector and five constables.

Nowadays, of course, it would consist of a special task force called “Operation Killer Mollusc” made up of a PC, a PCSO who was not allowed on the boat because they could not swim, a council support officer, dressed as much like a policeman as possible, and a special constable, who could only do weekends.

In the 1800s, oysters were so cheap and plentiful they were mainly eaten by the working classes. But, even though we learnt to cultivate them, we devoured all the stocks. We destroyed them with pollution and we introduced foreign species which brought diseases, so supplies fell dangerously low.

As oysters became rarer and the price rose, they became a delicacy for the upper classes.

Oysters have been also helped by a couple of myths.

For example, the myth that pearl oysters make pearls when a grain of sand is trapped within them – actually in nature, they are produced when pearls are invaded by a parasite, but that lacks a little romance.

And then there is the disputed fact they are an aphrodisiac. A team of American and Italian researchers analysed them and found they were rich in rare amino acids which trigger increased levels of sex hormones.

In recent years, local oyster beds have once more begun to flourish and our reputation for supplying them is famous across the globe.

As is, unfortunately, the Fat Duck Restaurant, once voted the world’s best, where hundreds of diners recently got ill after eating Colchester oysters.

For foodies, the Fat Duck is a hallowed establishment where the owner, Heston Blumenthal, mixes science and cuisine to create incredible dishes like mustard ice cream and sardine on toast sorbet.

However, the truth of the matter is, as with all shellfish, eating oysters always has a slight risk unless you cook them into oblivion.

Just ask Michael Winner, one of their most famous victims who almost died several times after consuming vibrio vulnificus – a bacteria which lives in warm water – via an infected oyster. He suffered almost total organ collapse and had large chunks of skin cut off.

The Fat Duck (which is presumably thinner now having spent quite some time in the lavatory) is thriving again and the oyster company in question says the infected beds have been closed.

The fact is, life is full of risks, lay in bed all day trying to avoid them and you will probably die of a thrombosis.

Millions of oysters are consumed every day and only rarely do they have any ill effect.

Our town is rightly proud of our association with this historic food. The Oyster Feast is just around the corner and as famous author Jonathan Swift once said “he was a bold man that first ate an oyster”. And it would be a cowardly one who passed up on giving them a try.