Oysters

There is something that I never, ever cook (or should I say prepare) at home.  It’s the humble Oyster. That slippery, anatomical looking, gurgler of a delicacy. I reserve them exclusively for when I eat out – I don’t want them to become something I associate with home, to me Oysters are a special treat.

When we were in San Francisco, it felt like the home of the Oyster. Our first meal was at The Anchor Oyster Bar, a gorgeous little spot in the heart of the Castro, which is the heart of Gay America. We sat there all afternoon, eating Oysters and drinking Rose.

Our last meal was also Oysters, and once again, we have Megababe Chachi Bonch to thank.  These Oysters are an annual family favourite of the Bonch family. BBQ’d in their shell served by the water at The Marshall Oyster store.  The Marshall Oyster store is on the shores of Tomales Bay, on Highway One about an hour and a half out of San Francisco.

We ate them overlooking the bay, washed down with some beautiful fresh clam chowder, the perfect way to finish our holiday.

My love for Oysters has never been stronger, just like a drink, I can’t think of any occasion where I would turn them down.  There’s no recipe today, just a little piece of advice. Go to your favourite restaurant and order some Oysters and a glass of wine, no more, no less. Indulge yourself.