Smoked Oysters
So. The poets (and prose writers and artists) gathered together last night at the writers and artists colony at St Peter's Abbey admired the Fanny Bay smoked oyster dip (made from oysters I bought while last staying at The Cottage at Fanny Bay) and here is the recipe, which I tweaked as follows: instead of one tin of oysters, I used two. I added a dollop (couple of tablespoons) plain yogurt, a squeeze of lemon, a bit (half tsp) of minced lemon rind.
Instead of fresh, I used dried minced onion and dried parsley leaves, and as it sat for about an hour before we ate it, everything had time to soften up nicely I thought. It all seemed to go down equally well with french bread or chips.
I don't think the Fanny Bay smoked oysters are as oily as other tinned commercial ones I've seen, so you might want to drain the oil off those if it looks like you'll be swimming in it.
Instead of fresh, I used dried minced onion and dried parsley leaves, and as it sat for about an hour before we ate it, everything had time to soften up nicely I thought. It all seemed to go down equally well with french bread or chips.
I don't think the Fanny Bay smoked oysters are as oily as other tinned commercial ones I've seen, so you might want to drain the oil off those if it looks like you'll be swimming in it.
Labels: oysters, recipes, writing retreats
8 Comments:
The smoked oysters were divine.
The best oysters in town! Thanks Rhona.
Again, you outdid yourself last night, both food and poetry were divine! thanks...
Quelle coincidence! I just happen to have a can of Fanny Bay Smoked Oysters on hand here in Saskatoon! Perhaps I will whip some of them into a tasty pate, while enjoying the rest unadorned. (The oysters being unadorned, that is. Not me.)
Thank you.
Mary (whose Prose is Often Inspired By Poetry, and occasionally by Oysters and Other Foodstuffs -- most notably to date, by the Brussels sprout.
Mary, who is a blog-respondee neophyte as well as being an poetry and foodstuff aficiondo, does actually have a website.
still looking for my pay check
for quarding the god damn dip
from i
don't know what
ken
Ken, Ken, I never said "check", it was chips, and your chips are in the mail. Oh, and you did a GREAT job of guarding the dip. Thanks again.
well i guess
that's how
my fortune
cookie crumbles
when you let the chips
fall where they may
damn
should of got it in writing
as we winnipeger's say
a verbal contract
ain't worth
the paper it's written on
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