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Haruo
up-and-coming blogmeister

I invite discussion of oyster sandwiches. Incidentally, when you order an Oyster Boat at Stan's, she says "It's a sandwich" in a rather discouraged tone of voice. You reply, "I know. I love them."

Haruo

I never had an oyster boat, but I have ordered a shrimp burger along the NC coast. It was good.

Sounds good. Fried oysters are pretty good, stew and oyster dressing also (but I pass on the raw).

Oyster Anything.... EEEEEWWWWWWWW..... (we should have a sickly emote face)

Tim Dahl

Great post Haruo. I had noticed a previous mention that your parents had died before you were grown. Thanks for writing the post and sharing the story of your complicated relationship with oyster boats.

I agree with Cathy. I knew the brief outline of your story but did not remember reading the particulars of your parents' death. Thanks for sharing your experience of wading through incredibly thick memories where a satisfied appetite and unsatisfied history combine with a result that sounded almost like contentedness.

Oyster boats as "soul food". Good stuff.

If I ever get out your way (my wife has an uncle who lives not too far from you, I think), I'll have to have one with you.

Well, I didn't read past the oyster part...until this morning, sorry.

Didn't read it at all until just now.

I'm sorry about the loss of your parents in such a tragic way. It's never time to lose parents no matter how long you have had them or how old and sickly they are. I can certainly understand your reticence to eating at Stan's for all those years. I'm also glad you have managed to overcome and reconcile the past with the present. That's hard for most of us to do.

My mother often cooked sweetbreads (pancreatic glands), heart, tongue, brains -- gourmet items now-a-days, but the cheapest cuts of meat during the recession (1930s). However, she never introduced me to oysters.

That came in Hong Kong in 1952. We ate often in the Parisian Cafe of the Metropole Hotel. Oysters a la Rockefeller were offered by the dozen for six dollars HK. At the exchange rate of 6:1, the dozen oysters on the half-shell were one dollar.

Chesapeake oysters are not what they once were; 30 years ago, anybody who was making a trip from Appalachia to the beach was asked to bring back a bushel of oystrers. We left them on the grill until they opened, dragged them through a light cocktail sauce, and checked which fellow gourmands bit 'em before swallowing. Camping on Florida's beach just north of the Kennedy Center, we dug them out of the shallow water, popped them open, and enjoyed.

Some nanny/theologian (I think a vegetarian Adventist) wrote voluminously about the innards of each oyster in an attempt to find scientific reasons why the Good Book forsook the eating of shell fish. If you come across such writing, ignore it, and enjoy your meal.

Meantime, join with me in thanlsgiving to the first man who ate one of them thar thangs.

Like others, I had also not read down the blog. I appreciate you sharing your memories and the ways in which you experienced both the pain and joy. That was a rich posting. I wish you had posted the whole blog here.