Oysters

This week has been interesting to say the least. Let's start with Monday evening. Chelsea wanted to work, so I gladly gave up my p.m. shift to her. It would have been my fourth double in a row. Yuck. Brian and I decided to have a cheap date night and headed to The Hard Shell (nice to work in a restaurant...cheap food and wine). All was going well. Brian enjoyed his crab legs. I did a tasting of some of our wines so that I could explain them to customers. And then came the plate from the kitchen.

A pristine white, square appetizer plate beautifully garnished with micro greens and a lemon wedge. And a raw Chesapeake oyster.

Brian looks at me in disgust. I look at the guys in the kitchen, who are smiling with anticipation at me. I think Brian says something like, "You aren't really going to eat that, are you?" Yes. Yes, I am.

All the guys in the kitchen know I'm in culinary school. We talk about it all the time. Sunday, I asked Andre to show me how to shuck an oyster. It's difficult, by the way. We got it open, and he asked me if I had ever eaten a raw oyster. I walked away. Monday morning, I told him that I really did want to try oysters. I'm going to be a chef. I need to stop being afraid of food. That's how the single oyster ended up in front of me.

I take it over to the kitchen so they can give me a pep talk. One. Two. Three. Slimy. Funky. Yuck. The guys are laughing. And then I told them that I wanted to try a Blue Point oyster. I mean, let's just get this oyster tasting business out of the way all at once. That was my theory. The guys couldn't believe I actually wanted to eat another one. I go into the kitchen and help Cory shuck it. I didn't put lemon on it, or cocktail sauce, or anything else.

One. Two. Three.

Delicious!

It tasted like sea water. Like summers in Ocean City. Like vacationing at Chincoteague. Like warm, lazy days. I'm hooked. And proud of myself for trying something so repulsive looking. The key is to not chew. Just drink it.