Tried an oyster? For some people it is an instant yes. For others it comes with a bit of hesitation. They sit somewhere between fascination and uncertainty, and that is part of what makes them interesting.
Watch this part of our Pembrokeshire Road Trip on YouTube as Anthony visits Atlantic Edge Oysters to explore how oysters grow, how they taste, and why they matter to the future of the coast.
In truth, there are not many foods that carry quite the same romance, history, and character as the oyster. They have been part of human diets for thousands of years, and depending on where you stand, they can mean rough coastal living or champagne-soaked indulgence. In Britain, they once shaped communities, fuelled economies, and filled bellies in ways that are often forgotten.
If you walk along certain estuaries, you might still find small mounds of broken shells known as middens. These are not modern rubbish tips, but traces left by people who lived and ate there hundreds, or even thousands, of years ago. Oysters were once so plentiful that they were an everyday food. Roman soldiers demanded that British oysters be shipped across the continent. By Victorian times, London was full of oyster bars, and prices were low enough that even the poorest households could afford them.
Over time, pollution, overfishing, and changing tastes pushed oysters out of everyday life and into the realm of something more special. But they never disappeared. They simply waited to be rediscovered.
That rediscovery is exactly what Anthony experienced when he met Andy of Atlantic Edge Oysters on the Pembrokeshire coast.
Anthony joined Andy on the water just inside the shelter of the estuary, close to where Atlantic currents wash in from the open ocean. It is this constant movement of water, combined with the geology of the land and the mineral runoff from ancient woodland, that shapes the oysters’ flavour over time.
“Oysters taste different everywhere because they’re filter feeders. They take in everything that’s in the water and they’re influenced by the geology around them.”
Atlantic Edge oysters spend more than two years in the water, filtering continuously and taking on layers of character as tides move in and out of the bay.
“We call that a memoir. The oyster tastes exactly of Pembrokeshire.”
That sense of place is not romantic exaggeration. It is something you can taste.
Andy explained that Britain now grows two main types of oyster, native oysters and rock oysters. Both are delicious, but they are not the same, and each carries a very different story.
Rock oysters, Crassostrea gigas, also known as Pacific oysters, arrived in Britain in the 1960s when native stocks were in serious decline. Hardier, faster growing, and more resilient, they became the backbone of British oyster farming. Their deeper cupped shells hold a plumper body, and the flavour is creamier, slightly sweeter, and often more approachable for people new to oysters. Unlike natives, rock oysters are available all year round.
“They grow quickly, they’re hardy, and they taste great.”
One reflects heritage, slow growth, and history.
The other reflects adaptation, resilience, and the realities of modern food demand.
Together, they allow oyster farming to survive and evolve.
Oysters have travelled a long way culturally. Once common fuel, then luxury, now something being rediscovered for both flavour and sustainability.
They offer protein, iron, zinc, vitamin B12, and a rare combination of nourishment and ecological benefit. They clean water, support biodiversity, and require no feed, fertiliser, or freshwater to grow.
They are one of the few foods where eating more can genuinely mean doing less harm.
Oysters are not only food. They quietly support the waters they live in.
Each oyster filters vast volumes of seawater, removing excess nutrients, reducing algae blooms, improving clarity, and creating habitats for other marine life.
“They’re little ecosystem service providers. When we harvest oysters, we’re leaving the sea in a better place.”
For Anthony, this reframed what food could mean.
“Our oyster carbon capture outstrips our beef carbon tonnage.”
It is rare to find something that nourishes people while actively repairing the environment it comes from.
“Let’s make a Tabasco style sauce but bring it lower down the scale.”
Back on shore, Andy talked Anthony through the flavour profile.
First comes salinity, a clean hit of Atlantic water. Then sweetness develops as you chew. Then a sense of the sea itself, not taste but aroma, filling the nose and mouth. Finally comes the mineral finish, flinty and long, drawn from the stone and soil of Pembrokeshire.
“You have to chew an oyster. That’s when the flavour develops.”
Anthony followed the ritual carefully, opening the shell, checking that the oyster was alive, and tasting it naked first.
“That’s unbelievable.”
It wasn’t just delicious. You could taste Pembrokeshire in it.
By this point, there were sauces everywhere. Anthony had only just been at the chilli farm the day before, so heat was already in the air. Andy mentioned that the Atlantic Edge team are big fans of Chilli Tropical Teaser, so Anthony brought Fire Cider into the mix too, drawn in by the apple note they sometimes use with oysters at the restaurant.
Andy tried the Tropical Teaser first and nodded.
“It’s just right. It’s got that zinginess. A little bit of heat. It doesn’t overpower.”
Anthony followed and laughed.
“There is heat there though. But it is… yeah. There’s zing.”
Then came Fire Cider. A pause, then relief.
“Not fiery. It’s good. That little cut through there. That is really, really good.”
What they both noticed was how well the saltiness still came through afterwards.
Both sauces worked. In different ways. Neither took anything away from the oyster itself, which felt like the point.
Atlantic Edge is part of that rediscovery. It connects people back to the sea, back to seasonality, and back to the idea that food is a relationship rather than a product.
Eating an oyster grown here is not just consumption. It is participation in a living system shaped by tide, time, geology, and care.
That is what Anthony found on the water that day.
Not a luxury.
A story.