I have a very vivid memory from childhood of my Uncle David opening and slurping oysters by the dozen at my grandparent’s dining table. That dining table was a huge focus of fun, food and entertainment as a child, whether that be my grandad cheating at cards (every damn time), my grandma serving her famous meat pie (when we found out after years of eating it that she had been using tinned meat, we were gobsmacked), me lining up the dominos and knocking them down time and time again, or the time my brother realised the salad cream he was eating wasn’t just years out of date, but had gone red… red?! His face… The oyster memory however is one that I laugh at, mainly because I was disgusted at the time at how my uncle could be knocking back such creepy, disgusting, slimy morsels of rankness. Fast forward two decades and I realise I must have inherited his obsession, as I cannot get enough of them. And it’s not just oysters, I’ll inhale pretty …