My first food memory is of the sea.
My parents would undoubtedly be surprised to learn this. They arechicken and rice people, spaghetti with tomato sauce people. But myfirst food memory is of eating the sea.
My brother and I were out on the beach, trapping the crabs. The crabsthat have several years to go before they would end up on a dinnerplate, ranging in size from your thumb nail to a ladybug. Weoverturned their rocks, and chased them down as they franticallyscurried for shelter, collecting them into large canning jars wherethey crawled over each other in desperation.
I was distracted from this endeavor, one of my favorites, by a group of adults. For the past few hours I had observed them digging a shallow hole in the sand, building a fire into which they threw rocks, then placing these now-hot rocks in a layer at the bottom of the hole, and covering that with a blanket of pacific sea kelp. Then, they poured some smaller rocks on top and folded the seaweed over them,tucking them in. This was not your normal adult beach activity.
Now I was drawn to them as they uncovered their small rocks and began cracking them open and….eating them? Curiosity overcame all my well-taught apprehension regarding strangers
What could this be? As I sidled towards the group, pretending to still be turning over rocks to find crabs, an older gentleman caught my eye and offered meone of their rocks.
When I held it in my hand I realized that it was not a rock at all. The inside was soft and pillow, a pale, pale grey. Gooey. I began torecoil, but the man said: eat it. He made a motion with his cuppedhand to demonstrate to me how I was supposed to tip this funny thinginto my mouth. Being the curious child that I was, or perhaps simply afraid, even at my young age, of rejecting hospitality so generously offered, I did.
There are few times as an adult when we get the chance to taste or see something unlike anything we have ever seen before. But I will always cherish the memory of my first oyster.
My parents would undoubtedly be surprised to learn this. They arechicken and rice people, spaghetti with tomato sauce people. But myfirst food memory is of eating the sea.
My brother and I were out on the beach, trapping the crabs. The crabsthat have several years to go before they would end up on a dinnerplate, ranging in size from your thumb nail to a ladybug. Weoverturned their rocks, and chased them down as they franticallyscurried for shelter, collecting them into large canning jars wherethey crawled over each other in desperation.
I was distracted from this endeavor, one of my favorites, by a group of adults. For the past few hours I had observed them digging a shallow hole in the sand, building a fire into which they threw rocks, then placing these now-hot rocks in a layer at the bottom of the hole, and covering that with a blanket of pacific sea kelp. Then, they poured some smaller rocks on top and folded the seaweed over them,tucking them in. This was not your normal adult beach activity.
Now I was drawn to them as they uncovered their small rocks and began cracking them open and….eating them? Curiosity overcame all my well-taught apprehension regarding strangers
What could this be? As I sidled towards the group, pretending to still be turning over rocks to find crabs, an older gentleman caught my eye and offered meone of their rocks.
When I held it in my hand I realized that it was not a rock at all. The inside was soft and pillow, a pale, pale grey. Gooey. I began torecoil, but the man said: eat it. He made a motion with his cuppedhand to demonstrate to me how I was supposed to tip this funny thinginto my mouth. Being the curious child that I was, or perhaps simply afraid, even at my young age, of rejecting hospitality so generously offered, I did.
There are few times as an adult when we get the chance to taste or see something unlike anything we have ever seen before. But I will always cherish the memory of my first oyster.
