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Ron Smith's avatar

My first oyster was at Connie & Ted's in West Hollywood. I had been wanting to try them, but I only ever saw them offered a dozen at a time. What if I didn't like them? Connie & Ted's sold them one off, so I got one. I was there with my brother. It was his birthday and I took him there for fried clams. (Later at another restaurant I ordered steamed clams and discovered that he liked the "fried" more than the "clams"). I tried one, and loved it. I ordered another. As I ate, my brother asked the waiter, "When was that oyster last alive?" The waiter answered, "Right up until your brother bit it!" My delight was only matched by his horror. I now eat oysters every time they are on the menu. It is as you said, "it’s like something in the depths of my animal humanity needs to eat raw things out of shells."

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Marisa Dobson's avatar

Ah, arsters! Where I grew up in Southern Maryland, you had a crab guy and an oyster guy both speaking of bushels. The Chesapeake Bay’s oysters are usually craggy which make them easier to hold & shuck; the brackish waters mean that they can taste different from creek to creek. One of the delights of my life is that my little brother has become “the oyster guy” here in Baltimore, as he regularly brings up oysters to sell and is the backyard shucker of choice for rowhome shindigs.

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