We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
... newcomers to the city, including Twain—straight from the Nevada desert with its pickled oysters and an appalling coffee substitute he dubbed “Slumgullion”—developed a taste for the tiny, coppery Olympias. The Oly, as it was called, was the classic gold rush oyster, a staple of celebrations and everyday meals in San Francisco restaurants and oyster saloons. Olys appeared in oyster soup and stew, stuffed into wild poultry and, of course, raw. Perhaps the most distinctive local dish was a “Hangtown fry” of oysters, bacon and eggs.
Mark Twain loved good food. I've had the Olympia oysters, but prefer the Northeast mollusc. I once ate 72 of them in a contest with a friend somewhere where they had an all-you-can-eat raw bar. I lost, but I still love to eat them.
Here in the South, the premier oysters come from Apalachicola, FL. You can watch the harvesters from the fishing pier (the old bridge to St. George's Island), then eat them at one of several establishments near the docks. I don't know how Deep Water Horizon will affect the beds, but what I saw in Orange Beach, AL was not pretty.
One of my favorite words... slumgullion. Just checked my online dictionary, and they didn't have the definition that Mark Twain used, of a coffee substitute. I had always heard it applied to soups or stews of doubtful provenance and questionable taste.
As a boy, we used to pick them up on the beach, pry them open with a screwdriver, gulp them down with a squeeze of lemon and a dash of ketchup. This was in Hood Canal, in the late 50's. Wouldn't do it now, though. I'd cook them first.
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