“My God, Lucien, will you look at the size of that thing?” Olivier DeJoie had never seen an oyster of quite such menacing proportions. “Thing must be big as my fist,” he said, holding his beefy hand up for comparison.
It was no exaggeration. In all his years of running DeJoie’s, the city’s premier fine dining establishment, he could not recall ever having encountered such an impressive specimen.
“Bet you can’t get it all in your mouth,” said Lucien Dautrieve, his trusted chef, sitting beside him at a large round table overflowing with steaming food dishes. Babe Ruth and Diamond Jim Brady – whose outsized appetites had been chronicled in the newspapers of the day – had nothing on Olivier DeJoie.
“Ha. Guess again, Pal,” Olivier said. “You should know me better than that.”
“You care to make a wager on it?”
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