1 "Here you are. Try this – it's delicious," said my father, waving an oyster in front of my nose.

2 I frowned. "I don't want to. I don't like it," I said.

3 "Nonsense. How do you know you don't like it if you haven't tried it?" he reasoned. "Just slide it into your mouth, and taste the Atlantic Ocean."

4 He's right, I thought, but sometimes you can also work out if you like it just by looking at it. And to be frank, I thought the oyster looked rather nasty.

5 The restaurant was in a French seaside resort. The waiter had already brought a huge plate of seafood, with crabs, prawns, lobsters, and all sorts of other strange things clinging onto each other, as well as a bottle of white wine in an ice bucket. My mother was busy shopping, and my father had decided to take me, his ten-year-old son, to lunch. It was to mark an important event in my life, as important to my father as coming of age – my first oyster.

6 What on earth must the first man to eat an oyster have been thinking about? I say "man" because surely no woman would be quite so silly. "Well, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Let's have a look in this rock pool ... yes, that looks pretty yummy to me!" It doesn't seem very likely. It sounds more like a schoolboy challenge. "Here, you try this oyster, and I'll try this juicy hamburger, and we'll see who has more fun!"

7 Outside the skies were cloudy, and a strong wind was blowing off the sea. It looked as gloomy as I felt. There was no hope left. The only feeling was hunger. The only emotion was the fear of losing innocence as I realized there could be no escape from my first oyster.

8 "Could I have some fish and chips?" I asked hopefully, suddenly beginning to miss my favourite dish.

9 "Certainly not! They don't serve fish and chips here, only the very best seafood in the whole region. You won't taste anything finer anywhere for miles around," he replied, pouring himself another glass of wine. "Now, stop complaining. Try one oyster for me, then you can have something nice and easy to eat, maybe some prawns with bread and butter," he suggested, striking a note of compromise for the first time during the whole meal.

10 But with the clear perception which only a ten-year-old boy can have, I still understood that the compromise included eating that oyster sitting on the side of my father's plate.

11 My father continued to eat his way through the mountain of seafood. On his plate was a pile of empty lobster claws, while on the table lay a battery of tools used to crack the shells and scrape out every last piece of meat. He paused after every mouthful and raised his glass. Now and then he waved the oyster at me, teasing me to eat it, but saying nothing. I just looked at my empty plate in despair. I thought about the food which I most liked, my mother's home-cooked food, and a silent tear slid down my cheek.

12 Finally, my father picked up the oyster again, and I knew it was all over. I took it between finger and thumb, and held it to my lips. "Suck it into your mouth. Hold it there, and then swallow." I did as I was told. It was unlike anything I had ever tasted before. I could feel the soft, slippery, and salty oyster slide down. My eyes opened wide with surprise. It was the taste of the sea!

13 My father watched and smiled knowingly. That day, he taught me to try new experiences, even if they appear daunting at first. My first oyster was an invaluable lesson.

The father took the boy to the restaurant to celebrate the boy’s coming of age.