Add eating raw oysters to the list of things climate change is fucking up for everyone.
Oysters are a loogie in the culinary sandbox. An epicure will slurp them, but most folks would rather eat egg salad that’s been clotting on a picnic table for six hours. Consequently, any oyster dish is the ideal game-changer at your Thanksgiving table, and is odds-on to send that cousin-in-law whose name you can’t remember to the punchbowl to bob for the courage to hold his nose and swallow one whole.
My mother was an odd filly to pick up the oyster habit. Her Dust Bowl childhood in the Nebraska Sand Hills (which we only heard about every ten minutes: blizzards more blinding with each White Zin; a trek [...]
"A virulent form of herpes is killing countless Pacific oysters this summer, according to a new study accepted for publication in the journal Virus Research. The deadly virus has already destroyed anywhere from 20 to 100 percent of its victims in French oyster beds, and has spread to oysters in Britain." -First Rome. Now, oysters. Discovery reports more bad news about global warming.
Perhaps the greatest appetizer I have ever eaten is Oysters en Brochette at Galatoire's in New Orleans. The oysters are wrapped in bacon, dredged in flour, deep fried and then drizzled in butter sauce. It is exactly as amazing and unhealthy as it sounds. So I am sad to learn that "oyster reefs around the world are disappearing so fast that more than 85 per cent have been lost to disease and over-harvesting." I had better get back to New Orleans but quick; this heart isn't going to attack itself.
'We refer to our habitat now as 'merroir," an aquatic play on the wine industry's word of choice, 'terroir.'"
-Apparently now oyster fisherman are total homos, just like wine people. Who knew?