Slurping Toward Nirvana on the Maine Oyster Trail
Eat oysters only in months whose names contain the letter R. That old rule of thumb lingers, seemingly as fundamental as “30 days hath September.”
And yet there I was in late May, clearly not an “R” month, at Glidden Point farm in Edgecomb, Maine, with three oysters, a knife and a tour guide determined to teach me how to shuck them without losing a thumb.
I wedged my knife into the hinge of the shellfish, then realized in horror that this was a living thing that I was about to savage...
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