Everyone I know is obsessed with oysters. Here in San Francisco, we eat oysters every which way: deep fried in po' boys, barbecued to succulent perfection, swimming in a citrus bath of Peruvian ceviche and half-drunk during happy hour along with an ice cold Guinness, lemon wedges and Tabasco. For those who count themselves true, salivating oyster-philes, it's pretty much the Super Bowl: the 11th Annual Oysterfest is coming to the Great Meadow at Fort Mason to celebrate the most revered of bivalves in a single action-packed afternoon on Saturday, May 15th.
The rain, the cold, the grey: Instead of running away from it, last week I embraced it and headed up to Tomales Bay which, to my mind, is best experienced in the winter. The crowds are gone, fields of hot yellow mustard flowers pop off the mottled grey sky, the bay is calm and moody and the oyster-eating is very, very fine. Add a fire to this scenario and the word hunker suddenly doesn't seem so silly after all.
Here's the escape plan:
The bar at Nettie's.