Olympia Oysters 4b
I’ve eaten a lot of Olympias. The chef at The Willows thought/knew they were very special, so we always had one per guest and often had a few left over. Even a fixed menu produces a bit of ‘waste.’
I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina and spent my early 20s in Chicago. Neither place is known for their oysters. Moving to Lummi Island felt like moving to an oyster farm. I was that close to the home of Olympias and the birthplace of the Shigoku.
The drive down Chuckanut Drive to Taylor’s makes the trip worth it for even the non-oyster lover. Luckily, I don’t have many of those friends so I got to do the drive with visitors AND bring back oysters to caramelize by throwing them into a beachfire or to shuck on the pebbly shore between sips of Chablis.
Taylor’s Shellfish. Phone taken by Annie’s mother.
If you don’t already hate me – just imagine the sunsets. Those Lummi Island sunsets were without equal. Paradisiacal scene indeed! But most of the time, I was working, and I was on an island with only about six other people my age who I either managed or managed me (the chef, and sous chef).
Large beachfire on Lummi. Photo taken by Annie.
It can be a tad stressful working in fine dining. Managing anything can feel tense – let alone when the people you’re in charge of are the only people you see – not only because of your long and strange work hours, but because you’re all trapped on an island together with a ferry that doesn’t leave for weeks at a time.
Spat Prawns on Lummi. Photo taken by Annie’s friend.
Do you know what brings people together besides being surrounded by water on all sides? Food. I’ve learned through case studies of trying lamb cooked over fire and pudding made from Nootka rose that food that’s amazing, special and active usually casts a spell over a group of tired bodies.
Sunday night Projects at The Willows. Shucking oysters as a snack. Photo taken by Annie.
Shucking Olympias and Shigokus after the usual 16 hour shift is a pretty great way to taste them. The rewards are immediate and the effort of obtaining the meat feels all your own. The cold, sweet, salty, otherworldly taste is energizing as much as it is reassuring.
Olympias on Lummi are very different than Olympias in Washington. Right now, this southern girl lives with two people who regularly harvest oysters. I’m also taking a course in college (not culinary school) that has hosted a few tastings.
My home can be hectic and my class can get a bit bewildering. But there are oysters! I feel extremely lucky, rich and relaxed with an oyster in my hand. I’ll write something about that another time.
Steve holding the TESC mascot (soon to be sashimi and ceviche) at Donedei Winery. Photo by Annie
This post is about taste. And, yes, the two versions of Olympia oysters – those had on the island and those consumed in Olympia – taste different. The oysters from Bow might be a bit less salty than the ones from Shelton. The Shelton oysters have a bit more of that Anne de Belon desirable funk than the more musky sexy cucumber of Bow’s beds.
Screenshot of driving directions between Bow Taylor’s and Shelton Taylor’s. Taken by Annie.
I, myself, am very different than I was on the island. I play a different role in Olympia and am only starting to figure out what that feels like. My circumstance and location has totally altered me and I’m only a few hours drive from who I was before. How can we expect anything less of an oyster?
