But it just seemed so trendy, transient even. The cool thing to engage in. When I moved to New York, it was everywhere. Staring me in the face on every street corner. Beckoning to me; mocking my inexperience. I was nervous, a little excited, a little scared, but I knew it was time. I wanted it. I wanted to try raw oysters.
I consulted a worldly woman to talk me through my first time (you know who you are. Mom.). I needed to know what it would feel like, taste like. Those ugly little bastards scared the crap out of me. Selection was the key. A Pemaquid, Maine oyster ended up in my hand. I looked at it, swirled my finger around its shell to loosen the flesh, and prepared myself to swish it around my mouth before swallowing it down. I thought to myself, "This is actually kind of a sexual food moment. I truly am about to lose my oyster virginity." Needless to say, my expectations were high. And to my amazement, those expectations were met. It was an epic moment in my food world. In the small, concentrated area that is my mouth, here's what I believe happened: I am at the beach in Maine. The wind hits my face and I inhale exhilarating ocean air for the first time in years. The sand is warm, and suddenly the cool ocean sings and splashes me. Something has been awakened.
That was about 6 weeks ago. I recently tried to describe this experience to a friend who does not like raw oysters, and I encouraged her to give it another go. Selfishly, I wanted to repeat the incredible experience that I myself had. Here's the thing - nothing is like your first time. It gets easier, more comfortable and familiar. Not necessarily less exciting - there are ways to spice it up (try horseradish, or pair it with a spicy white wine). It's just different, that's all.
I am hoping, over the course of my life, to lose my virginity many more times. Maybe that makes me a food slut (I prefer "adventurous"), but I'll take it as a compliment.
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