Free Republic
Browse · Search
News/Activism
Topics · Post Article

To: Oldeconomybuyer
I was introduced to oysters--in New Orleans, ironically--many years ago. My impression was that they were largely over-rated, at least when eaten raw. I mostly remember the inevitable few grains of sand that seem to accompany every oyster.

Still, what a way to die. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

24 posted on 01/08/2018 1:37:45 PM PST by Lou L (Health "insurance" is NOT the same as health "care")
[ Post Reply | Private Reply | To 1 | View Replies ]


To: Lou L
I was introduced to oysters--in New Orleans, ironically--many years ago. My impression was that they were largely over-rated, at least when eaten raw. I mostly remember the inevitable few grains of sand that seem to accompany every oyster.

Raw oysters are merely a delivery system for cocktail sauce.

26 posted on 01/08/2018 1:48:12 PM PST by KevinB (When you drink the water, remember the men or women who dug the well.)
[ Post Reply | Private Reply | To 24 | View Replies ]

To: Lou L
I was introduced to oysters--in New Orleans, ironically--many years ago. My impression was that they were largely over-rated, at least when eaten raw. I mostly remember the inevitable few grains of sand that seem to accompany every oyster.

Yeah, I remember when it seemed as though every bar and po-boy joint in New Orleans had a raw bar. I once saw an oyster-eating contest go horribly wrong in the French Quarter; the *splat* of those dozens of partially-digested oysters hitting the cobblestones was enough to make me lost interest in the raw variety, pretty much permanently. IIRC, the unfortunate scene was featured on the weekend news. Blech.

62 posted on 01/08/2018 4:00:42 PM PST by Charles Martel (Progressives are the crab grass in the lawn of life.)
[ Post Reply | Private Reply | To 24 | View Replies ]

Free Republic
Browse · Search
News/Activism
Topics · Post Article


FreeRepublic, LLC, PO BOX 9771, FRESNO, CA 93794
FreeRepublic.com is powered by software copyright 2000-2008 John Robinson