London, our ever-hungry metropolis, has always had a complicated relationship with its food—lustful one minute, disdainful the next, reinventing old flames and discarding others like last season’s gastro trend. But one affair has endured the centuries with surprising resilience and a salty sort of romance: our ongoing love of oysters.
Yes, oysters. Slippery, sensual, and divisive as a dinner party guest with strong opinions on Brexit, they’ve gone from street food to high society and back again. In London, the oyster has not just survived—it has thrived, endured, and evolved. This is the story of how the capital fell in love with a bivalve, lost it, and learned to love it all over again.
Shells in the City: A History
The Romans, bless their imperial appetites, were the first Londoners to go ga-ga for oysters. Archaeological digs at Billingsgate and Southwark have turned up mountains of discarded shells, confirming that long before Pret and poke bowls, London’s lunch scene involved a healthy heap of molluscs. Oysters weren’t just luxury fare—they were a staple, an affordable snack for the masses and the elite alike.
But the evidence isn’t all buried. Even today, if you walk along the banks of the Thames at low tide—particularly near Bankside, Wapping, or along the foreshore by the City—you’ll find the ghostly remnants of London’s shellfish past. Thousands of oyster shells, some centuries old, are scattered along the mud and stones. Mudlarkers and amateur archaeologists often find them alongside broken clay pipes and bits of Roman pottery. It’s a living shoreline of appetite: the Thames, it seems, has been a seafood buffet for 2,000 years.
Fast forward to the 18th and 19th centuries, and oysters were no longer the domain of the decadent. Instead, they were everywhere. Imagine Brick Lane with oyster vendors instead of bagels, or Brixton Market lined with barrels of shellfish instead of plantain and jerk. At their peak, Londoners were eating over 700 million oysters a year. Seven hundred million!
They were stuffed into pies, sprinkled into stews, and even served with a pint down the pub. For the working classes, oysters were fast food—cheap, filling, and not yet Instagrammable. A Victorian builder could spend his lunch break knocking back oysters and ale, no truffle oil required.
They were stuffed into pies, sprinkled into stews, and even served with a pint down the pub. For the working classes, oysters were fast food—cheap, filling, and not yet Instagrammable. A Victorian builder could spend his lunch break knocking back oysters and ale, no truffle oil required.
But then came disaster. Pollution, overfishing, and the small matter of a few cholera outbreaks saw the oyster’s reputation sink faster than a canoe in the Thames. By the early 20th century, they had become a culinary cautionary tale. Once working-class staples, they were now rarefied delicacies, clambering their way back to the top of the menu by virtue of scarcity.
Oyster Rebirth: From Pub to Posh
In the latter half of the 20th century, London’s oyster scene began its revival. Restaurants like Wiltons on Jermyn Street and Bentley’s in Mayfair led the charge, serving up oysters in candlelit splendour to a clientele who wanted their seafood on silver trays and their lemon wedges freshly cut by someone named Pierre.
Today, oysters have achieved full lifestyle icon status. They are not just food—they are theatre. You don’t eat an oyster so much as experience it. The pop of the shell. The glisten of brine. The optional squirt of lemon or shallot vinegar. The slurp. The pause. The swallow. Then the smug, post-coastal glow that settles over your soul and says: I am cultured. I am salty. I am very possibly a god.
You can find oysters all over London now, from the Michelin temples of Mayfair to the rough-and-ready shuckers at Borough Market. There’s a democratic joy in that: whether you’re in a suit or sandals, there’s a counter somewhere with your name on it and a dozen oysters waiting.
Where to Slurp: A London Oyster Tour
For those seeking their fix, London offers a smorgasbord of oyster options. Here are some of the best:
1. Bentley’s Oyster Bar & Grill – A London institution since 1916, Bentley’s is pure oyster theatre. Sit at the marble-topped bar, order a Guinness, and watch the shuckers work their magic. It’s old-school glamour meets fishy perfection.
2. Wright Brothers, Borough Market – This spot feels like the Soho House of seafood, minus the wankery. Their oysters are sourced from their own Cornish farm and are best enjoyed standing up, elbow-to-elbow with tourists and chefs on lunch break.
3. The Oystermen, Covent Garden – Small but mighty, this restaurant offers high-quality oysters with a side of charm. Their oyster happy hour (yes, really) is a thing of legend, and often booked up weeks in advance.
4. Richard Haward’s Oysters, Borough Market – A family operation going back seven generations, Haward’s stall is the real deal: no frills, no fuss, just Essex oysters opened by people who’ve been doing it since before you were born.
5. Wiltons, St James’s – For those who like their oysters with a side of aristocracy. You’ll pay handsomely, but you’ll be dining in one of London’s oldest restaurants, with a history as rich as its clientele.
Aphrodisiac, Myth, or Saline Scam?
Of course, no oyster article would be complete without mentioning the wink-wink reputation of the oyster as an aphrodisiac. Casanova supposedly consumed 50 a day (though we suspect this had more to do with Italian bravado than biology). Scientifically speaking, oysters do contain zinc, which is linked to testosterone production, but you’d need to eat a small bucketful before you noticed anything other than a pressing need for a Rennie.
Still, myths persist. There’s something undeniably suggestive about the oyster: its texture, its shape, its ritualistic consumption. It’s the only food that makes slurping seem sensual and spitting a tragedy.
Shucking for the Future
Despite their glamour, oysters are not just a decadent throwback—they might also be our sustainable saviours. Oysters are filter feeders, cleaning the water around them and providing natural habitats for marine life. One oyster can filter up to 50 gallons of water a day, which frankly puts most of us to shame.
In fact, oyster farming is one of the most environmentally friendly forms of aquaculture. No feed, no chemicals, no carbon-intensive nonsense—just good, clean, briny fun. As Londoners become more eco-conscious, the oyster’s role as a green goddess of gastronomy is likely to grow.
And let’s be honest—there’s something deeply pleasing about eating something that not only tastes great but also moonlights as a water purifier.
In Praise of the Slurp
So here we are, in 2025, and London’s oyster obsession shows no sign of drying up. What began with Roman traders and Victorian pub-goers has evolved into a culture of slurping, sharing, and Instagramming shellfish in settings from street stalls to skyline bars.
They’re still a bit divisive, sure. Some see an oyster and think “divine indulgence.” Others see it and think “marine snot.” But love them or loathe them, oysters are here to stay, glimmering on crushed ice like edible jewels, whispering to you in the language of tides and coastal dreams.
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