Oyster master
Iam up at 6.30am to take the dog for a walk and then, after tea with the wife, I get the 7.50am train from Beckenham, Kent, to London. It takes about 25-30 minutes.
I'm at Wilton's by 8.45am and that's when I start weighing in all the shellfish, laying up the bar and getting ready for lunch at noon. There's a lot of prep work to do, such as boiling the lobsters, picking out the crabs and laying out different shellfish in ice buckets on the bar.
Next to the door, I like to keep a display of 20 lobsters on a giant plate, with a crab at the back with its claws out. At the end of the bar, we keep 10kg of langoustines. We put other shellfish in ice buckets along the counter. Everything must be clean and plush and in keeping with the Edwardian decor.
The bar menu is the same as the one in the restaurant downstairs, but we have eight stools along the bar and we prep up everything in front of the customer. The trick with oysters is to take them out of their shells as cleanly as possible. That means not cutting them or yourself.
It's about nice presentation. I take off the top shell with a special French knife, without the guards, and then I cut the muscle underneath and turn it over. Occasionally, I find a pearl, but I'll give it to one of the ladies.
A great oyster should taste juicy and is ideally served with lemon juice, Tabasco or chopped onion. Some American customers insist on adding tomato sauce, but we try to persuade them otherwise.
We use either Rosmore oysters from Cork, Colchester oysters or Pacific oysters, which is a breed. Ours come from grade A beds in Loch Fyne, Scotland. Pacific oysters have a creamy taste and cost £9 per dozen, while Rosmore and Colchester cost £31 per dozen. Colchester ones are salty, the Rosmore variety has a plainer taste. All told, we get through up to 60,000 oysters per season. We keep 600 in stock at any one time.
I don't compete in oyster competitions now because I'm 56 and I'd sooner leave it to younger guys. It can be a lot of aggravation beforehand, preparing and thinking about it. On the day, if your nerve goes, that's it. I came fourth in 1987 at the World Championships in Galway.
At noon, we open the bar, and people come in for a glass of Champagne and lobster cocktails. From 12.30pm, the real rush starts and it's often fierce for about 45 minutes. Customers are from the City and from around the St James's neighbourhood, and we still get a mix of peers and cabinet ministers popping in, as well as a lot of top business people. By 2pm, the rush dies off, and I'll knock off at about 3.45pm and get the train home. Later, I'll drive back in to Jermyn Street.
The evening kicks off at 7.30pm, and from 8pm-9.30pm, there's normally a big rush. By 10.30pm, it's last orders. I normally get home around midnight.
I've been doing this job for 35 years and I can honestly say that nothing has really changed at Wilton's. That's part of its charm. That's why people come here.
