And I had opinions about oysters. Completely unfounded opinions, because, until yesterday, I had never tried one. But I held firm in my opinion: they are gross. Who wants to eat something that looks like a pack-a-day smoker coughed into a barnacle?
Let it be known that this wall doesn't extend to any other type of seafood. J'adore les fruits de mer! And I have always watched my entire family eat, offer, and glorify oysters. It's the jewel of the sea! A wonderful delicacy. I'm sure you will love it, it's like nothing else you've had. No deal. They just don't get me. It wasn't until a recent outing with three friends where I watched them happily slurping down oysters that I thought "Gee, maybe I am missing out here."
Last night, I went out for drinks with friends. We enjoyed fancypants cocktails at Raines Law Room, an establishment where you must ring a doorbell to enter, and patrons pull a small metal ball-chain next to a velvet banquet to call the waitress. The motion feels like turning on an antique lamp, except the light is an attractive waitress who asks you whether you prefer a cocktail that is refreshing, bitter, or herbaceous. This sophisticated Gatsby-esque hideaway was the perfect primer for my great leap into the high-class world of oysters. After several drinks, we headed to the nearby Blue Water Grill, the upscale seafood palace. Unfortunately, we had a little too much fun ringing for the waitress, and it had gotten late. Blue Water Grill was closing, and taking the integrity of my blog with it. I asked the waiters if they knew of anywhere nearby that served oysters and might be open. Without hesitation, one replied "Yes, across the street, the Coffee Shop Bar."
Oh. The Coffee Shop Bar. This is not a place known for seafood. It is known as a late night dining spot to the pretty and the pretty drunk.
We ordered half a dozen oysters and I ordered a glass of white wine. (You know, just in case.) The plate arrived minutes later, and my partner-in-crime noted that the oysters looked a little funny. Great. Now I'm really excited. We raised the open shells with an air-cheers, and I placed the fleshy, watery lump in my mouth. The flavor was underwhelming. It tasted like sea. But the texture overrode any flavor distinction anyway. It was like swallowing a slimy dead slug. I tried a second oyster to give it another go. Yep, slug again.
Results: Two oysters consumed. The flavor was fine, actually. There wasn't much about that to dislike. And now I know definitively that a) oysters don't make me sick, and b) if I'm ever in the position where oysters are being served, I am good to go. But I didn't really enjoy consumption, and from the way people go crazy for these little suckers, I'm clearly still not getting something. My oyster-loving friend Chris who accompanied me insists that this was a terrible introduction to oysters. He's probably right. I intend to treat myself to oysters from Aquagrill, Pearl, or the famed Grand Central Oyster Bar sometime in the next few weeks. I'm not too proud for a blog redaction.
Status: Success!
You need to eat REAL oysters which means getting on a plane and head to SF. Then rent a reasonable priced hybrid (this is a must nowadays in NorCal) car and drive north up the 101 to Hog Island Oyster Company. Just thinking about them right now...hmmmmmm.
ReplyDeleteSide note, you should probably call me when you come and I'll bring the VINO.