Yukon loves oysters. Really, really, loves oysters. So when a friend had two dozen delivered to our home last week, you'd have thought Yukon was going to roll right over and die with glee, he was so happy. I think I saw him do a little dance on the back porch.
We all know that oysters are a love-them-hate-them sort of seafood item, as mysterious in flavor as they are in physiology. People either screw up their faces in disgust or light up in delight when oysters are mentioned as part of the menu at our house. References to snot and other mucus-related terms have also been heard around the table. At any rate, my husband would miss the little bivalves should their presence be eliminated, so I try to humor him and just leave the room when the oyster knife comes out of the silverware drawer.
Yukon is a man of true culinary ecstacy when it comes to two things; beer and raw oysters. A friend who owns a restaurant taught him how to shuck oysters a few years ago, something that must bring out the wild in a man, for Yukon can stand all day over the sink or out on the deck, depending upon the season, to pry open an oyster shell, suck out its contents with a dash from his ten selections of Tabasco sauce, and toss the shell into a bucket.
The best oysters in Alaska are found for the most part around Kachamek Bay, near Homer, a 5-hour drive from Anchorage. Our wonderful friend, upon hearing of Yukon's pining for oysters, made a special trip down to the Coal Point Seafoods and ordered 24 fresh-from-the-cold sea, in-shell beauties. (They also have outstanding packages of other seafoods native to Alaska; halibut, salmon, black cod, and the like) www.welovefish.com; of course.
After almost eight years of Yukon's acquaintance, I am used to his oyster binges. In fact, even from our first date, where we attended a book signing for the acclaimed "Heaven on the Half Shell", our lives have been shared by oysters.
Aren't they an aphrodisiac?
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