Oysters Man…Effing Oysters!

This is more like a little rant than an actual post. I hate oysters, I really do. I hate eating them, I don’t finding them all that tasty and I especially hate opening oysters. Most restaurants serve oysters because most people like the idea of oysters. That is to say, people like being able to go out and order a dozen oysters when they’re on a date because they think eating said oysters will make them more attracted to the person sitting across from them. This is just plain wrong. Oysters are no more an aphrodisiac than fried chicken is a health food. Somewhere there are some gristled old Mainers having a good laugh about this. I’m pretty sure (and I’m sure if I were writing a book and could take the time to research this) the idea of oysters as an aphrodisiac was perpetuated by fishermen trying to unload large quantities of oysters…most likely when they were out of season. This in-and-of-itself, is another problem I have with the serving and eating of oysters, is that for large parts of the year, oysters spawn; which makes them taste fairly terrible. There are a few different schools of thought on this, the two most common being: do not eat oysters in months ending in “y” and the other most prevalent being only eat oysters in months that contain an “r.” As you can see, this poses some problems, January, for example, contains an ‘r,’ but it also ends in a ‘y,’ thus making it difficult to determine whether you should eat the slimy fuckers in the first place.
As I understand it, the ‘y’ principle primarily applies to Summer months, when male oysters are busily gunking up ocean waters with their sperm and go from being concerned with being snatched out of the water and eaten, to knocking up all the eligible female oysters in the vicinity. Don’t get me wrong, I like an oyster Po’ Boy, I think they’re pretty tasty, but then again, that’s a fried oyster that’s served with some friends on a Baguette with a Remoulade and usually lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. That’s neither here, nor there though; I have an awesome Po’ Boy recipe which I’ll share at some point, along with many of my other Southern recipes which make little sense as my being a Northerner.
Bottom line, oysters suck. And I’m especially upset with them now seeing as I opened up a two inch gash on my left thumb trying to open two dozen oysters in the practical dark on Saturday night. To that end, the next time you go out to eat and think you need a little “help” when it comes to getting your dinner companion on their back, or all fours (as it were), order some Champagne and leave me out of it.