Oysters have a funny effect on me. About once every two or three years I think, man, I'd love to have some really good, fresh raw oysters on the half-shell. So my wife and I will order a half-dozen and they'll arrive, looking like, well, you KNOW what they look like.
I'll pick up the first one, splash it with lemon, dash it with a little Tabasco, and slip it out of the shell. And it's WONDERFUL: it tastes a little like the sea and a little like sex, slippery and salty and sweet. And my eyes roll up and I think oh man, that's so good.
So I'll have the second. And this one tastes a little...stronger, less like the sweet juices of passion's first flush and more like last night's leftovers. But I'll manage to get it off the shell, into my mouth, and down the throat, with perhaps a bit more Tabasco and a healthier swallow of whatever we're drinking to wash down the oysters. (Champagne is very, very good, as is ice-cold German or Dutch beer, a very dry martini, and a crisp pinot grigio or a French chablis or other wine made from the Dijon clone chardonnay grape.)
And then there's the third one. I look at it, and I swear it's looking back at me, and it starts to take on the attitude of Robert de Niro saying, You talkin' to me? I pick it up; it quivers. I put it down; it slithers to one side of the shell, and the little black wavy edge looks less like the frills on an old-fashioned French maid's underpants and more like a line of mildew on a long-disused gym sock. And I think, dammit, I paid for these oysters, I'm going to eat the bloody things. And I pick it up and the oyster is taunting me now, looking more and more like a dingy deflated eyeball, and I try to let it slip directly from the shell into my gullet without touching my tongue, teeth or any other sensory organs first.
And then I imagine it taking root in my stomach, lying there like a gelid pale monstrosity out of H. P. Lovecraft, gibbering and sending out tendrils in the hot acid bath of my digestive juices. So I figure that sufficient quantities of alcohol will kill it, and I down whatever is in my glass, and order another, and eventually the gibbering ceases, the motions in my gut die down from a flutter to a throb to an oozy tidal swell; silence lies heavy across the blood and tissue of my abdomen, and whatever walks there, walks alone.
And that is why I only eat oysters every two or three years.
2007-01-28 15:29:41
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answer #1
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answered by Scott F 5
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In soup-small can or container of oysters may add a little water- let boil- add about 1/4 butter and milk depending on how much you want to make. Heat and eat while hot with crackers.I like them also fried and yes i ate 15 one day on a dare um good!!
2007-01-28 15:19:10
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answer #2
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answered by Anonymous
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Man how can you not ? Fresh oysters are a thing of beauty , a squeeze of fresh lemon and that's it. They are almost as good as fresh littleneck clams. Fine & elegantly simple food.
2007-01-28 16:27:37
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answer #3
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answered by Anonymous
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Lighty battered and fried. They're great that way, and they don't feel anything like raw oysters like people usually eat.
2007-01-28 15:52:00
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answer #4
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answered by mashfanficchick 2
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A little splash of tabasco, and go to town.
2007-01-28 15:09:55
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answer #5
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answered by n2tapas 3
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you put it in your mouth and then chew at least 10 times and then swallow with a smile.
2007-01-28 15:00:12
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answer #6
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answered by professorminh 4
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you eat it standing next to a trash can.
2007-01-28 14:57:49
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answer #7
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answered by DLT 2
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Very fast but make sure it don't touch your tough.
2007-01-28 14:53:59
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answer #8
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answered by Anonymous
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a little horse radish and yummy...
2007-01-28 14:59:20
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answer #9
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answered by wizard 4
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