Today we went to Mason County Fairgrounds for the annual Oysterfest. It is a short distance from my house set next to a little airport. We arrived just as a group of paragliders were coming in for a landing against a bright blue October sky and a mountainous backdrop. It was lovely.
Prior to the oyster tasting, we visited the winetasting tent where we sampled some of our area's fine wines, and left with a bottle of Horizon's Edge Wishful Thinking Port, a delicious chocolatey libation that will be lucky if it makes it to Thanksgiving, and a bottle that we won't even try to save for Thanksgiving from Olympic Cellars Winery called Go Girl Red-because it just felt like a good idea to have a wine cheering for me. And then it was on to the main event.
Prior to the oyster tasting, we visited the winetasting tent where we sampled some of our area's fine wines, and left with a bottle of Horizon's Edge Wishful Thinking Port, a delicious chocolatey libation that will be lucky if it makes it to Thanksgiving, and a bottle that we won't even try to save for Thanksgiving from Olympic Cellars Winery called Go Girl Red-because it just felt like a good idea to have a wine cheering for me. And then it was on to the main event.
Now I have to admit upfront that I have had encounters with oysters exactly two times before. Once when I was a teenager in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I was given a raw oyster on the half shell. Being the kind of girl who alway chewed her food, unless it was something like, oh, say ice cream, I proceeded to chew that slithery bit of shellfish until it had morphed into something roughly the size and consistency of a rubber dog bone. One intended for a very large dog. Then I compounded my mistake by attempting to swallow it anyway, where it got lodged halfway down my throat. I don't remember clearly which direction the bugger ended up, but I know there was more than a little panic involved.
The other time involved a recipe for oyster stew that I thought sounded good. (I must have been reading something Christmasy and Olde Englishy at the time) Anyway, suffice it to say, even the neighborhood stray cat wouldn't touch it.
Which brings us to today, where I discovered that grilled oysters on the half shell in garlic butter was a treat. A hint of the sea and so tender, I wish I had ordered more. I also decided to give the raw guys another try. I was not so naive this time; I knew to just tip, let it slide and swallow. But my throat had been imprinted with its earlier encounter and seized up. A second try established for good that this was a no-go. Ah, well, there's always next year.
Ooh. Brave soul. Don't think my throat would allow an oyster down it, either. I'd go for the wine, though. ;)
ReplyDeleteYou'll have to tell us the events before they come up, so we can join you. :-)
ReplyDeleteSounds fun! Is it possible to add a "running score" of some kind to track your progress?
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