Oysters at La passerelle

So we continued our journey, as the travel guides described that at every corner of the route, young men with their sharp knives would open oysters and offer them fresh from the catch. Drizzled with lemon juice, accompanied by fresh white bread.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach was still there, and I can say it hadn't faded. At the edge of Marseillan, on a parking lot, we saw the first tables, well-frequented, but my stomach still said no, so we drove on. After about 1 KM, the huts of the oyster farmers lined the path between the road and the shore. It smelled inviting, and people were queuing at some stalls, but we kept going.

Then, however, a desire overtook me; if you don't act now, it would be over. We stood on the street with a view into the courtyard of the restaurant, La passerelle. There were a few cars in the courtyard, and a couple of bicycles were parked as well. We have to go in now and at least see what attracts people here.

It definitely smelled of grilling and garlic, and down by the shore, there was a terrace, with a covered terrace on the left a bit higher up, and in front of it, also slightly elevated, was the man at the grill. The kitchen, in contrast, was rather inconspicuous. But the scent drew us in.

We parked our bikes and checked each other on how far our courage might carry us. A man in cycling gear interrupted our thoughts and asked if we had a reservation; we said no. He immediately organized us two seats in fluent French and further informed us that oysters were also available baked for those who didn't like to eat them slimy.

There was no turning back; our table was assigned, and we had already made our choice from the menu.

As an aperitif, we had a Noilly Prat, water, a glass of white wine, baked oysters, and baked mussels.

I can only say that we were both so delighted and can wholeheartedly recommend this place and the restaurant. Even though it looks very unlikely right now, if we are ever in the area again, we will return.