Oysters

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The first time I ate oysters was probably how most people should (and maybe are) be introduced to oysters — at gunpoint. Not literally but pretty much in the same vein. I went out to dinner with The Wife (at a time when she was not yet The Wife) and her parents and it was the first time I’d met them. We went to a seafood restaurant at the coast somewhere in New England and they ordered a plate of oysters as a starter. I’ve never had oysters before and didn’t really know how to feel about them, considering that I’m not a fan of clams and other shellfish, but I didn’t want to be picky or unappreciative (while oysters can be expensive here, too, they’re really expensive in Germany, so I had that in the back of my mind, as well) so I just went for it.

Turns out I like oysters! There is still a little apprehension and, because I somehow got it in my head that every time you eat a raw oyster you’re toying with your life or at least some kind of nasty worm infestation of your guts or food poisoning, fear. And I learned to stay away from large or jumbo oysters, because there is such a thing as too much oyster and it put me off eating them for almost a year.

Be that as it may, some buddies of mine and I drove to an oyster festival, collected oysters, ate oysters (raw, barbecued, and fried) and had a pretty good time.

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Tidal flats with oysters and snow-capped mountains in the background — how cool is that?

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Thousands and thousands of oysters.

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