Damn You Canada, Damn You!

Last Night I attended the reception for Helen Hayes Nominees at the Canadian Embassy. Let me just say right up front that I love going to these things at the Canadian Embassy. There is really only one reason: Oysters on the half shell. I love raw oysters. My dad(as I have mentioned) is a scuba diver and for most of my youth our family vacations were planned around "dive opportunities." Quickly I became a fan of all sea food, but the oyster has always been the most intriguing.

It begins with the pulling of oysters from the bay and steaming them in camp fires, but as I got older I was enlisted as unpaid labor for the Undersea Explorers Club's oyster roast, an annual event in which the members of the club cooked sea food in a flat fee all you can eat format. These days would begin at 3 am with a trip to the North Side of Richmond to pick up the deep fryer. The fryer was made by a couple of guys in the club and was about the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. I would then ride in the beer truck to the sight (a park on the South Side) and assist with hooking up the taps. So about 8am I would set about the task of breading oysters for my dad. I would open the jars of raw oysters and dump them into what seemed like sandboxes filled with cornmeal. I'd do this for the rest of the day, occasionally stopping to make Hush Puppies or eat (ok, or sneak beer - fine my secret is out.)

My father would alternate between manning the gianormous fryer and shucking oysters. He was quite the shucker. But it went further than just this event. My dad makes a mean oyster stew as well. Now oyster stew is not something I would eat now a days as it was mostly butter and salt with some steamed oysters thrown in - but man did it taste good in the 80's. Really there was nothing better for me than when my dad would get a new supply of raw oysters in a jar and allowed me to consume them with him, make my own cocktail sauce, and shun the oyster crackers as a tool of those who wished to mask the oysters taste or texture.

My mother and brother do not share my love of the raw oyster, so it's not like a crazy family thing. It's just me and my dad, though Bob Allen is with me on the greatness of the oyster on the half shell.

Back to my point, the Canadian embassy had an oyster bar, and not one but two different kinds. I think I almost knock Leslie Nielson over getting to them (though in fairness, I though Andrew was lying to me when he told me that it was Leslie Nielson.) But once I got home I fell asleep within thirty minutes and woke up on my couch at like 4 am. I also fine this morning that a co-worker of mine who also attended the reception passed out shortly after returning home. Keep in mind that the shin-dig was over at 8pm. Damn you Canada, Damn you.