on the half shell

After a professionally and personally stressful month, I knew what to do about whatever ails I had –  I checked in with Chef to see if he was Yankee Piering so I could stop by for my omnipotent antidote – Maine lobster.  “Maybe some Beau Soleils will help, too,” he replied knowing of my favorite oysters.   So I trekked out to Lafayette where he had a shucked and plated  half dozen of what I can only describe as a kind of Georgia O’Keefe inspired  heaven on a half shell, waiting patiently for me on a bed of ice.

beau soleil goodness

beau soleil goodness

Beau Soleil oysters are so damn buttery and flavorful, I just want to cradle them in my mouth forever but instead opt  for suckling them for just a few beats  before I bite down  and have the taste explosion detonate its briny, sweetness.

Between those oysters and my requisite lobster, I am in gastronomic, orgasmic glee.  I will not repeat myself in describing the sheer sense of nirvana I experience every time I eat Maine lobster.  But I will  say that it’s the closest thing to being in love – it’s the drug I can’t ever get enough of.

love split in two

love split in two

I’ve said it once, I know at least twice, and probaly thrice, but it is good to know the chef.

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