WordPress. Why you vex me? Even if I’m signed into WordPress with my killer user name (really, it combines my moniker here and the world’s most important date 9/13/1999), often Blogspot kicks me to the curb when I try to comment on websites. It’s very annoying and I usually give up. So that’s how come I’m a lurker on the internet instead of a commenter.
This entry by Orangette describes, nearly perfectly, what it was like when I first tried oysters as a grown-up.
Back when we were dating, the better-half and I were in Chincoteague for a long weekend and were waiting for dinner. The place was semi-fancy or at least I thought so when I was a kid as we only went there on a rare occasion–because my parents were like that. It may or may not be fancy, but it is delicious and the sunsets are quite nice from the deck. Anyway, the wait for dinner was a long one. We were hungry and perhaps a little tipsy because we were drinking cocktails while we waited.
In addition to the cocktail drinking there was a discussion of what we wanted to eat. The better-half really wanted to order oysters and because I was in love, I agreed. Thank goodness for a couple of vodka tonics (and the love, of course). I had always thought of oysters as squishy, sort-of alive and yeck. As soon as we were seated, he ordered a dozen oysters. Let me tell you it was a revelation.
If you skipped the link to Orangette up there, please go read it. It was exactly like that–a cathedral bell going off. I love oysters here on the East Coast and we eat them often, but the best I’ve ever had were the ones we hoovered every chance we could get when we visited the Pacific Northwest a few years ago. One night while we were out that way, we went to a restaurant that wasn’t all that great. Pretty mediocre actually and the waitress spilled wine all over the better-half’s jacket, but we still talk about how good the oysters were that night.