
Chef Thomas
A British BLT
Back bacon crisped in a hot pan, a ripe tomato that actually tastes of something, crisp lettuce and real butter on proper toast. A sandwich that earns its place in the notebook.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Oysters wrapped in smoky bacon, grilled until the fat crisps and the sea-sweetness swells inside, set on hot buttered toast. The old savoury course, brought back to the table where it belongs.
There's something about the smell of bacon under a hot grill on a dark evening that makes a kitchen feel like the right place to be. Add oysters to the equation and the room takes on a different charge: salt air and wood smoke, something a little reckless, the kind of cooking that says tonight is not an ordinary night.
Angels on horseback belong to the old British savoury course, that peculiar tradition of serving something sharp and salty after the pudding, a full stop to the meal rather than another comma. The Victorians understood what they were doing. A crisp, smoky parcel with a briny, yielding centre is the sort of mouthful that makes conversation stop for a second. It deserves reviving.
This is a winter thing, really. Oysters are at their best when the months have an R in them and the evenings draw in by four o'clock. I make these for New Year sometimes, or when someone comes for dinner and I want to start the evening with something that feels like a small occasion without requiring hours at the stove. Twelve oysters, six rashers of bacon, some good bread, and ten minutes under the grill. We're only making dinner. But it's the kind of dinner people remember.
I wrote it down in the notebook after the first time: bacon, oyster, toast, January. The squeeze of lemon. The look on someone's face. That was enough.
Quantity
12
shucked, juices reserved
Quantity
6 rashers
halved crossways
Quantity
4 slices
Quantity
30g
softened
Quantity
1
Quantity
a pinch per piece
Quantity
small handful
finely chopped
Quantity
freshly ground, to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh oystersshucked, juices reserved | 12 |
| thin-cut smoked streaky baconhalved crossways | 6 rashers |
| good sourdough or white farmhouse bread | 4 slices |
| unsalted buttersoftened | 30g |
| lemon | 1 |
| cayenne pepper | a pinch per piece |
| flat-leaf parsley (optional)finely chopped | small handful |
| black pepper | freshly ground, to taste |
If your fishmonger hasn't already done it, shuck the oysters over a bowl to catch the liquor. Check each one for stray bits of shell. Give them a gentle rinse if needed, then lay them on a clean tea towel and pat dry. A wet oyster won't let the bacon crisp around it properly. Season each with a little freshly ground black pepper and the smallest dusting of cayenne. Go easy. You want warmth, not heat.
Lay out the half-rashers of bacon on a board. Place one oyster at the end of each piece and roll the bacon around it snugly, not too tight, just enough to hold. Secure each with a wooden cocktail stick pushed through the overlap. The bacon should wrap around once, perhaps once and a half. If your rashers are too thick, the bacon won't cook through before the oyster toughens. Thin is the thing here.
Heat your grill to high and position the rack about ten centimetres from the element. Lay the wrapped oysters on a wire rack set over a baking tray, seam side down so they don't unravel. Grill for three to four minutes, then turn them. Another two to three minutes on the other side. You're watching the bacon, not the clock. When it's bronzed and tightened around the oyster, when the fat has gone translucent and the edges are starting to crisp and curl, they're done. The oyster inside should be just warmed through, plump and briny, not rubbery.
While the angels are under the grill, toast the bread until it's properly golden, with some colour and crunch. Butter it generously while it's still hot so the butter melts into every pore. Cut each slice into triangles or rectangles, whatever suits the size of your oysters. The toast should be sturdy. It has work to do.
Pull the cocktail sticks out. Set three wrapped oysters on each piece of toast, or two per triangle if you've cut them smaller. A squeeze of lemon over the top, a scattering of parsley if you have it, and bring them to the table while the bacon is still crackling. These want eating immediately. The toast softens, the bacon relaxes, and the whole point is the contrast between the crisp and the yielding, the salt of the bacon and the sea-taste of the oyster. Don't let them wait.
1 serving (about 115g)
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