This evening, I broke the old rule of only eating oysters in months with "r" in the name. I had half-a-dozen Penn Cove Pacificas at Seastar. They were fresh, clean, and nicely presented as you'd expect at Seastar. I even had my now-standard glass of Lagavulin 16 (and then a yummy glass of Talisker) to wash them down.

Alas, they were they were only good. I forgot about the love life of the average oyster. Starting in September, they start storing fat -- creamy, delicious fat. They also firm up during this time. Come May, they start dedicating all that stored energy (and flavor) into reproducing, and like many humans (although not my lovely wife) they get flabby after having babies.

Since I believe in eating stuff when it's in season, I'll pass on oysters until this autumn again. Then again, it's autumn in New Zealand. Yummy oysters there. Hm...