To Live, the Oyster Must Die
Roads & KingdomsOysters are technically wild, but have been so messed around by humans over the last few centuries, their reefs smashed up and the individuals scattered, that they are now largely dependent on us.
Read when you’ve got time to spare.
Oysters are technically wild, but have been so messed around by humans over the last few centuries, their reefs smashed up and the individuals scattered, that they are now largely dependent on us.
Oysters are slimy, yet delicious. Casanova purportedly ate 50 of them for breakfast daily—and he isn’t the only one who believed they had certain powers.
Scientists were convinced that biological clocks are predominantly driven by internal rhythms. There was just one problem—involving some mollusks and the moon.
How a landscape architect is enlisting nature to defend our coastal cities against climate change—and doing it on the cheap.
There’s always been this oft-recited piece of advice about oysters: Only eat oysters in months that contain the letter “R” in the name. You know, September, October, December, January. Not June, July, August. But if this is true, how do millions of restaurants sell them year-round to people who seem just fine after eating them?
If you slurped down any oysters on the half-shell this summer, you probably didn’t realize they were monsters. Not monsters in the pejorative sense, but man made creatures—the invention of a modern-day Dr. Frankenstein.
Long before hot dog carts could be found everywhere, oysters were the ubiquitous food items of New York City; the original street meat.
I reread M.F.K. Fisher‘s masterpiece for maybe the 15th time on a recent afternoon. It‘s short enough to read in one sitting, but I warn you: Make sure you have immediate access to oysters afterward.
Come in for cheap oysters, and perhaps you’ll buy a few drinks. Or maybe you’ll stay until dinner and order a few entrees at full price.
In Ireland, few things are black and white, especially the law—and the tales of men who break it to dive for treasure under cover of darkness.
Oyster-shucking contests have existed informally since God knows when among the rocky coasts of fishing villages, but in recent years, they’ve become more international, more boozy, more likely to be sponsored by champagne labels or big hot sauce brands.
Shucking takes some practice, but if you keep at it, you‘ll figure it out.