Kat Whithead

Redolent of the sea, oysters at Aviary restaurant come five to a plate on a sparkling bed of ice. They hit the tongue like silk, sliding back, the tiny summer tang of tomato granite, building to the barest hint of horseradish, and then as they go down, a whisper of salty ocean air, like you are standing on a beach in a warm breeze.… Read the rest