Although I make no pretenses that I despise slippery, slimey, OOKIE oysters, I found myself consuming them on a couple of occasions recently. The inaugural oyster was on Valentine's Day at Ella Dining Room & Bar in Sacramento (FABULOUS eats by the way). Mr. T ordered oysters on the half-shell and I obliged him by eating a couple. Note: They taste like the freakin' sea. Dis-gust-ing. Better slathered in sauce so you can't detect the ocean in your mouth, but still OOKIE. Color-me-surprised when I succumbed to eating another mangy mollusk not six weeks later on our fabulous trip to Napa. Here's how it went:
Psyching self up to eat the oyster at V. Sattui. Note the gigantourness. At least the Ella oysters were dainty. Inner monologue: I don't wanna. I don't wanna. I don't wanna.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMnHQzuh0E-1Pq6XBagSag8imUsH98wUbbQLgOj59klVnXsGcIEg8Toz2tJTqqHA32MDteg_SbNY3uDg6pAfLxpD7Rp_s91YKlUjCaO0e5_iedQLxKQZLJszZGcvktkxey2KZW3cAddpUi/s320/Oyster+II.jpg)
I'm practicing T's "Church lady" face and trying to get the slimey bite well-positioned for consumption. Inner monologue: Still don't wanna, still don't wanna, still don't wanna.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunVo-YYAgEb6mwqAs1gOX82HvNcMTZQi9oIof5wBADig8LCPgJPYhOodjrfhEgW3liG8rv_3F-55GUo1i74uIRBQckja78OL2HllMgCucEpp_692TPv0_PRMzmrB8dWT3NXOs5LBoEz3R/s320/Oyster+III.jpg)
Down the hatch. Inner monologue: I can't believe I'm doing this, uh-gain.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg469qlNUeWQTEATrOkk_Calk-SCK_dXMxKC1HltteE3b1-ojM09FLTPIyhB7rWjJ2jUxhLEPsNYzWNWMuRZ1ZQBm8c6lIfyb05aXMsAfAxN73JO78ZxgUeg-1SdkiYQRQmYbQgmtoC9N0k/s320/Oyster+IV.jpg)
Really don't think I need to explain this one.
Long and short: Oysters = slimey OOKIE snot = YUCK.
xoxo,
shawna
Labels: Mr. T, Travel, Yucky things