Soul food: Eric Chavot on oysters I ate my first oyster at the age of three. Arcachon, where we lived, is on a beautiful bay in south-west France, which is ringed with oyster parcs. I've always loved oysters - when I taste one I can feel the sea. We didn't do that 'R in the month' thing - we ate them all year. My grandmother liked a flutter on the horses, and whenever she won she went straight out and bought a bourriche (a handmade basket lined with seaweed) of 120 oysters - and ate most of them herself! My dad did overtime, packing oysters during December - in France, oysters are the big New Year dish - and he would get a bourriche, too, quite often. Every Sunday our auntie, uncle and grandparents would come round, and lunch always started with oysters. We would sit round the table from 12pm until 5.30pm, my older brother and I only speaking when we were spoken to. We both watched, fascinated, as mum put oysters in their shells on top of the solid-fuel cooker - it was just level with our heads, and the oysters would suddenly open with a pop! I loved the taste of tepid oysters then, and I sometimes serve them with creamy scrambled egg - wonderful! I'm not sure whether that dish will be on the menu when my restaurant opens in Mayfair on the 28th, but I will be serving oysters.