Speaking of Bluff, (and these aren't free) no mention of autumn fare would be complete without acknowledging the magic oyster slow-grown in icy Foveaux Strait.
Here's a delicacy deserving of every superlative shucked its way; a food born into culinary completeness. Not even the popular twist of lemon juice improves it.
To add anything is to paint the lily.
I can think of no other food - plucked, shucked, shot, reared or ripened - that is perfectly seasoned in its natural state and marinated in its own liquor - salty, seaweed, meaty, mineral.
"The oyster's my world", someone very wise once claimed.
Legend has it 15th century Frenchman Louis XI ordered his advisers to feast on oysters each day so as to up their intellects. Our own late poet Hone Tuwhare likewise was seen to skull an entire jug of oysters to add to his lyrical powers prior to a poetry reading in a Dunedin pub.
Still, autumn remains a paradox. As the season of passing, browning, drying, dying and falling, it's the season that reminds us of our mortality most - but it's also a season of abundance.
