Where do I even begin?What was my latest journey, you ask?
Well, perhaps I have been distracted by the journey through the move. The journey into the boxes, and into the new house. The journey into fresh paint and sticky packing tape. The journey into a new kitchen... but that is another story. I am afraid to tell you... there has been little cooking in the new house. Just cooking up ideas and reading up on another journey.
San Fran. Frisco. What better place to begin a new chapter of the ravenous Texan? Arguably the culinary capital of the United States, San Fran is home to some of the best meals I have had all week (and all year!), so this is where I will begin this new portion of the blog. The part where I will tell you what I think of food that I did not cook.
Perhaps it is all the sea that we cannot drink that is filtered through this perfect specimen of
muscle. Perhaps it is the noble life it leads to get us there, pumping and pumping...filtering and syphoning to get us to that sweet and salty kiss, so creamy and crisp all at the same time. Maybe that is why I adore them so.
Highlights from a culinary pilgrimage in descending order:
Bouchon in Yountville
Ubuntu in Napa
Coco 500 in Soma
Delica in the Ferry Building
Rye
The Cortez Bar at the Adagio Hotel
The Clift Hotel (if I am cool enough)
the Sangria at Cha Cha Cha (skip the food)
How should I dissect this list? Shall I separate it into drink and food? They are both culinary journeys of course. Should I go through each meal in detail, recounting every taste and smell? Nah. I will tell you the parts that I savored.
The parts that made me close my eyes and say "remember this."
Those parts are here, and if you want more of them, you can look at them on this page where I have begun posting pictures.
Part 1
The icy cold and slippery saltiness of the oysters consumed on my trip may cause me to start looking for more coastal employment. What is brine anyway? Did you know that most oysters actually call more brackish water their home? Why do some grow to be so large and fatty, and some stay so neat and tidy in their shell? These are not the things I think about when I think 
about an oyster. I think about being a mermaid.
about an oyster. I think about being a mermaid.In another lifetime, if you believe in all that, I was a mermaid. I was not one of those animated mermaids that made friends with all the fish. I was a mermaid who went looking through all the oyster beds for every last one. No pearls, tabasco, cocktail sauce, or crackers, thanks. Just Kumamotos, Sweetwaters, maybe some Malpeques. Just make sure its cold and that there is a slice of lemon lying around somewhere. I have not always been a purist. I have also not always written about the food I eat. You learn when you dissect.
Plenty of peeps that came before me have given their shout out to the oyster:
I don't know if he was an aficionado, but Lewis Carroll made an impression on me as a young oyster pursuer. Perhaps it was the anthropomorphic oysters that pleaded for their life with no success against such foes as the walrus and the carpenter. What a sad and happy tale all at the same time.
"An oyster leads a dreadful but exciting life..." - MFK Fisher
"Secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster." - Charles Dickens (from A Christmas Carol)
"He was a bold man that first eat an oyster." - Johnathan Swift (coming from him!)
So, I will not be so bold as to say that I am one of the founders of the Oyster Fan Club. I know there are many who have come before. I am just standing in line, waiting for my membership card.
muscle. Perhaps it is the noble life it leads to get us there, pumping and pumping...filtering and syphoning to get us to that sweet and salty kiss, so creamy and crisp all at the same time. Maybe that is why I adore them so.
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