William Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway and Jim Morrison have written about them. Daniel Craig and his wife Rachel Weisz crisscross the Atlantic in pursuit of them. Judging by their abundance on menus across Australia, less-stellar types have also embraced them.

And it’s not our palates that have come of age; oysters are advancing too. Like French fine wine and wagyu beef, this coveted mollusc (don’t call it a fish) has entered the era of provenance. Oysters now have their own grading system, producers, regions and vocabulary—even their own terroir.

Aggregators like Appellation Oysters now buy and grade oysters in the same way négociants in France buy grapes from growers for premium maisons. In a sign of the times, oyster “sommeliers” are also popping up at finer establishments. 

John Susman is the chief executive of Fishtales, and an oyster judge and educator. He says he has seen a surge in the category’s production and appreciation: “In less than a third of the generation, we have seen the oyster offering go from Kilpatrick or mornay, to selection by species, estuary, season and grower.”

Oysters are typically listed on menus by species, with tasting notes like “crisp, briny, vegetal”, or “brisk, creamy, melon”. As with real estate, though, oysters are all about location, location, location. Just as chardonnays in Burgundy differ with each microclimate, it pays to know your regions and famed producers.

“You can have five oysters next to each other, and they all taste extremely different. And when you start to scratch beneath the surface, you discover this one is from the very oceanic estuary, and this one is from a closed lagoon, and this one has influences that come from the lakeside storms of the Northern Rivers,” says Susman, passion oozing from every muscle in his face. 

Wade into a serious oyster chat with any chef and Sydney rock oysters rise to the surface; the south coast of New South Wales alone has 38 different estuaries from which to source them. Pinnacle rock oyster country, however, is found in places like Wapengo, Merimbula, Pambula and Wagonga. On the Clyde River in Batemans Bay, Steve Feletti farms his oysters in relative hermitude, turning out sought-after varieties like Claire de Lune Bouton, Rusty Wire and Moonlight en Surface.

Colin Barker was head chef of Boathouse on Sydney’s Blackwattle Bay for 13 years, running an oyster menu of up to 18 varieties. “I am a bit of an oyster snob,” Baker admits over a plate of just-popped oysters at Coogee Pavilion. “So unless I’m seated in the vicinity of where they are being shucked, I won’t take on an oyster.”

Australian connoisseurs are aplenty, then. But according to celebrity chef and restaurateur Neil Perry, there is only one “oyster whisperer”: Gary Rodley from Tathra Oysters. “He’s one of the great oyster farmers,” says Perry, standing at the bar of Margaret, his award-winning restaurant in Double Bay. “Gary nurtures his oysters, and the result is one of the greatest tasting oysters in the world; rich, creamy, briny, umami, salty, yet sweet.” 

For Perry and co, the best advice if you love oysters is to shuck your own. Professionals wriggle a strong, shortish knife into the shell from either the frill or the hinge, careful not to spill the oyster juice. The adductor muscle is carefully cut, without damaging the centre of the oyster’s abdomen. When dining out, it’s perfectly acceptable to ask what day the oysters came in, and for the freshest. If just shucked, the shells will be cool, with the “liquor” of the seawater on top and served on ice.

“The biggest travesty with oysters, that you see at a lot of markets, is that they pop the hinge and then run them straight under the tap,” says Perry. “This is done for commercial reasons, to get rid of any grit, but you are losing that oyster liquor, that salinity that is the story of the estuary it was raised in.” 

If you haven’t done so already, it’s time to get your slurp on.

It’s all in the name, really. Uisce beatha. It’s from the Old Irish and simply means, “The water of life”. It doesn’t get more existentially important than that. From here, the passage of time and centuries of slurred usage have delivered us the word for what is, unquestionably, the most diverse, complex, collectible and celebrated spirit of them all: whisky.

There are arguments to be made for other spirits, but they all eventually crumble under the weight of evidence. Gin is only ever a momentary companion, bringing its charm in short, sharp bursts. Whether it’s riding in on a tonic wave, or laying in wait in a martini glass, gin’s time in the spotlight is brief. Rum comes with complications and is the best version of itself when waves slap against a hull. The agave distillates have a magic about them when authenticity is evident, but all too often these days, the conversation is dominated by big brands owned by people who profit from make-believe. Brandy is beautiful, but in retreat, and vodka is perfectly fine but will never be much more than an ethanol delivery system. 

But whisky, the water of life, is the greatest of them all. And getting even greater. Whisky is distillation’s broadest church. In its British Isles strongholds, tradition holds strong. With respect to gin, rum, brandy et al., you just don’t stand a chance against the magical malt.

All around the world, people who have never stepped on Scottish soil, can chart that country’s lochs and glens, rivers and munros, islands and highlands, by where they sit in relation to the nation’s famed distilleries. Across the Irish Sea, where the natives add an “e”, the production, and consumption, of great Irish whiskey is pursued with unshakeable enthusiasm.

The Americans have always adored their own indigenous interpretation, their most important crop becoming a key component of their most significant distillate. These days, their ryes compete with their bourbons for popularity and prestige, and the recent push for “American single malt” to be an official designation has seen a boom in the conjuring of whiskies informed by Scottish traditions but with deep American roots.

The Japanese have done what they so often do: taken inspiration from another tradition, reflected upon it, evolved it, until it becomes something uniquely their own.

And now, in the Antipodes, a new tradition is born, as a whisky scene begins to deliver on the promise it has shown in recent decades. We are living in Whisky’s Golden Age. There is simply no spirit that rewards connoisseurship like whisky. It can befuddle the mind without a drop ever touching your lips. The huge array of vastly different drinks that fall under the banner can be dauntingly confusing, and sidling up to the bar and simply asking for a whisky is like walking into a great restaurant and saying,“I’ll have the meat.” Those who slip down the rabbit hole quickly realise it runs deep. It’s the spirit that most captures what French winemakers call terroir, that magical ability of the liquid in the glass to evocatively express its origins. Whisky draws its own maps and guides the curious traveller through them. It can be instantly recognisable and infinitely nuanced at once. Those who progress to a point where the broad, provincial hallmarks become familiar, find themselves digging deeper in search of the signatures of individual distilleries: mash bills, cask finishes, bottling strengths, age statements. It’s the layering of detail that makes whisky so endlessly fascinating.

And while it’s perfectly acceptable to have a favourite whisky, a true connoisseur knows a great collection is best measured by breadth. Because the question is not, “Do I want a whisky?” but rather, “What whisky do I want?” The fragrantly floral ones, those that hum with dried citrus and spice? Those that reveal their charms demurely and those that thunder from the glass like a marauding mob? Those in which you taste the grain, and those that leave the memory of a fisherman’s jumper smouldering over a kelp fire on the beach? There is a whisky for every mood. It just proves the wisdom of the old Irish saying: “What whisky will not cure, there is no cure for it.”

From cask to glass Australia is now part of the conversation around premium whisky. At the forefront of the local scene is Sullivan’s Cove where Heather Tillot is the distillery manager. Here, she unpacks some of her process and provide’s insight into her take on cask maturation.

What exactly happens in the interplay of spirit and cask over time? 

They both give elements to the relationship. The oak cleans up the rougher edges of the spirit, and together they co-create new flavours. Water, ethanol and oxygen kick many reactions along, with the end result being a wonderful collaboration of esters, aldehydes, phenols, ketones, sulphur, the list goes on. Throughout maturation, the spirit moves in and out of the cask wood, wisely guided by place, humidity, temperature, barometric pressure and, some argue, Moon cycles. Very much a part of the terroir discussion. 

What are you looking for when scouring the world for casks?

There are the obvious considerations such as quality, potential for interesting single casks, continuing the legacy of our married releases, like the Double Cask, and marrying with our spirit flavour profile. But it doesn’t end there, as one of the most important factors is how the cask is treated at the cooperage: the nitty-gritty details of the shave, toast and charring have a massive impact on flavour profile and final product quality. The relationship between distillery and cooper is a beautiful thing, and one of the most rewarding, as a skilled cooper allows each cask to bring its best self forward for spirit maturation.

Is there something you see in each new spirit that guides you to a particular kind of cask?

It’s kind of the other way around: the questions is, how will the cask profile marry with our spirit hallmarks? While we have a few different spirit cuts for slightly different profiles, our spirit style across these cuts will always showcase anise, brine, citrus, a full body and creamy texture, and so we look for suitability with these essential Sullivans elements.

Thoughts on bourbon?

Vanilla and spice. A brilliant pair with the biscuity drive of malt spirit. A blessing from the American South.

And sherry?

Sweet, deep, fruity and completely iconic in the single malt world. 

What excites you about casks drawn from Australia’s winemaking heritage?

Australia is home to some of the best winemakers in the world and has been producing fabulous wine for many decades. To be able to collaborate with this magic and history is both humbling and exciting from a creative perspective. We use casks which have given their best to wine; it feels as though the baton is passed along to us to work with these wonderful casks through their retirement. For our purposes, they’ve got plenty to give if they’re happy to sit back and relax in our bond stores for half a dozen or more years. In particular, Australian tawny casks have been, and continue to be, notorious and iconic for Sullivans. We can’t imagine not having them in our bond stores and the results in our bottles. There’s a deep sense of keeping the wonderful history of Australian tawny alive, which we don’t take lightly. And so in this sense, there is a fortuitously synergistic relationship between winemaking and whisky maturation. It makes perfect sense for an Australian whisky style to be defined by Australian wine casks. 

Time is of the essence in our new Winter 2024 issue. We showcase the highlights from the recent Watches & Wonders fair in Geneva, including the best in men’s and women’s haute horology and get to know the young social media stars shaking up the watch scene.

Every minute counts as we discover everything there is to know about whisky, sing the praises of timeless Naomi Campbell, and turn back the clock with a visit to the world’s best skin clinic for men.

Elsewhere, we dawdle in Double Bay, the exclusive Eastern Suburbs enclave that is undergoing a renaissance, and spend time in a new Sydney parfumerie and a private gallery advising canny art investors.

On the travel front, we make haste while the sun shines and head to Rajasthan and Paris, before whiling away the hours in Mexico and Australia’s first truly private island. After all, time is the ultimate luxury. Make the most of it while you can.

Subscribe here.