This trip to London was special. My best college friend, Amanda, was preparing for her wedding, and so I made the trip to spend a Saturday morning at a dress appointment – sifting through lace, measuring the length of godet’s, and squeezing my wet eyes behind a champagne flute. If anyone is wondering, I did OK holding together my casserole of emotions.
There isn’t a chance I will ever be able to leave London without oyster dining, so after a long nap, I scurried through the pouring down rain through the puddles of Spitalfields to Wright Brothers for a bar chair for one, before meeting my friends for dinner.
I beamed at the neon signs against the damp streets, and got tingles as I peeked inside. I was so distracted that I accidentally strolled right past the front door trying to find the way in… I rewinded my steps awkwardly and slowly enough to creep out a few diners in the window before entering.
This. Cozy. Place. I was immediately noticed upon entering, greeted warmly and was offered a corner seat at the bar. The lighting of the place somehow creates just enough privacy to comfort a lone patron, yet plenty of recessed brightness on on the counter to show off the marble and the dishes. The tile underneath the bar glistened in shades of green that reminded me of fish scales sparkling in the sea.
The staff at Wright Brothers were generous with their time in walking me through the oyster menu, and offered definitive answers on what I would enjoy based on my feedback. They didn’t assume I knew too little or too much about oysters, which was refreshing. For that I would like to say thank you.
Props to the bartender for allowing me to try all three of the oyster dressings that usually had minimum orders. PLEASE try the ceviche, the crispy fried, and my favorite of all three: the smoked oyster with horseradish cream and pickle served on a cracker. Holy wow.
For half shell, I ordered Jersey Rocks and Dungarvan’s from Waterford, Ireland. I found it surprising that the adductors were not cut off the shell and how they provided a teaspoon for diners to do this themselves. I assume it is the perception of keeping them fresh on the half shell… It’s a social food so you take your time. The spoon didn’t help me much with how I am accustomed to shucking, so I grabbed my butter knife to better detach the muscle with a good swift scoot of the blade. As I did this, I wondered if I was breaking an English code of conduct and revealing the ol’ Yankee in me. #howdyfolks
Three champagne rose’s later and my eyes were as glazed as the twinkle of the tile, so I thought I’d better dash before I made a name of myself. 🙂
Thank you, Wright Brothers, for your hospitality, thoughtfulness, and the best pre-dinner snack in town.
Source of cover photo: www.thewrightbrother.co.uk