Oyster Snobbery

I bought some really delicious looking oysters to put in my stuffing for Thanksgiving and they were very fresh and yummy. They were from Washington state. But when we ate the rest of them in oyster stew, I realized that my oyster love is definitely reserved for those "arsters drudged" from Chesapeake Bay. There's something about those bivalves that are absolutely fabulous. They are mild and light tasting--eating them is like breathing the air near the ocean--light, sweet & salty all at once. The west coast oysters were good, and the milk broth was just fine, but the oysters themselves were just too strong. They weren't "gone 'round the bend" bad, just too strong.

My oyster love started when Cool Guy and I went to a seafood restaurant in Malibu. We tried some raw on the half-shell and they were really yummy. Then, five years later we moved to Southern Maryland where oysters were king for many years, and now, in their decline, are still pretty darned regal. We ate them at the seafood restaurant near our house. The oysters there were so fresh they had probably been dredged that very day. Then we went to the National Oyster Shucking Championships at the county fairgrounds and totally gorged ourselves. Once we were gifted with a gallon of freshly shucked oysters by our son who brought them home from the restaurant where he cooked. They were closing for a week and all the fresh food went home with the workers. Wow. We had them fried, stewed, baked and creamed. I used my cookbook from the oyster shucking festival! Ymmmmmmm. We really didn't get sick of oysters everyday for five straight.

When I was a girl, my dad used to have oyster stew several nights a week. He'd open that can of oysters to pour into the hot milk and I'd have to leave the room. They looked like boogers and tasted like an old shoe filled with horse poop. Blecchh...

Don't know why as an adult I've gained a taste for them---raw, no less! Guess I have to make up for all the oysters my dad missed out on since he died too young. Happy to do my part, Daddy.