On Shucking

Last weekend, the boyfriend and I made one of our weekly trips to Whole Foods. I'm not much for cooking, but I love grocery shopping. The Whole Foods doors are probably my favorite doors to walk through because upon entering you're hit with the delightful and surprisingly still lingering scent of cinnamon. I say surprisingly lingering because a few weeks ago the doorway was full of whole sticks, skinny tree branch size sticks, of real cinnamon. The cinnamon is long gone, but you wouldn't know it from smelling that entryway.

Cinnamon must have some favorable aroma therapy use because as soon as I walk through those doors I'm instantly put in a good mood. Aroma-marketing perhaps . . .

We wind our usual way through the store, making our requisite first stop in the fruit and veggies section. I should eat more fruit -- I've been trying -- but I basically have accepted that I'm a meatatarian. I'm ok with that. I can appreciate the colors though. Aesthetically, fruit and veggies are beautiful. The boyfriend and I discovered a some sort of fruit called a Buddha hands lemon, which basically looks like a tentacled lemon. We decided to rename it squid monster lemon and return for it once we figured out what to do with it. I like fruits and veggies because they're real lookers, much more visually stimulating than red/pink/gray meat. I'm all for feasting my eyes, sometimes my mouth, if I'm pressed upon.

We usually pass the seafood (bf is not a fan) but this trip oysters were on sale. Neither of us can turn down oysters and these were especially fresh, as in sealed shut and still alive. We decided to buy six.

Excited about fresh, FRESH oysters, we left soon after. I, now calling myself the walrus, and bf, the carpenter. How hard could shucking oysters be?

Hard.

Like every living thing, the oyster doesn't want to die and will use its natural defenses to keep from becoming dinner. Evolution did them well. Picking up the oyster and examining it, you are hardly able to see where the top and bottom meet. As long as they're cold (read: alive) they seal themselves shut, leading a very insular life. They only open when they die. Turning it round and round, if I didn't know any better, I'd think we'd just bought some exceptionally flat rocks. But boyfriend is a determined one and immediately went to prying at a possible hinge with a flat screwdriver. I, much more hesitant, got a butter knife and joined the struggle.

For at least ten minutes -- nothing. I swear the oysters were laughing at us. Little bubbles were forming at the "mouth" of one. Force wasn't working, so I decided to get literary by reciting "The Walrus and the Carpenter" to them. This was meant to scare them out of their shells, but I probably strengthened their resolve.

Finally, boyfriend got one open and I few minutes later I claimed my own. Small victories. It took us another 10 minutes to pry one more apart, after which we gave up. We put the remaining three oysters back on ice to let them think about their decision. We ate the three half-shelled ones and vowed never to shuck again.

***Fun Fact: If the oyster is really fresh, there's a good chance it's still alive when you eat it.