Tomales Bay Oyster Feed

I love the vast array of getaways that exist within a few hours of San Francisco. There are the biggies like Napa, Sonoma, Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Big Sur; and then there are the closer places: Muir Woods, Stinson Beach, Half Moon Bay, the Computing History Museum and the electronics flea market down in Silicon Valley ...ok, those last two aren't at the top of *my* list, but they are rather popular weekend destinations with the gentleman in my life.

The gentleman in my life much prefers bags of servos and capacitors to bags of shellfish, which is why I had never convinced him to accompany me on an oyster-eating extravaganza to Tomales Bay, where a smattering of little shacks crouch alongside sludgy water and sell bags of incredibly fresh, creamy oysters at very reasonable prices. You shuck them yourself. These shacks also sell lemons, hot sauce and oyster knives, and offer picnic areas peppered with barbecues and the sort of wooden tables that are so weather-beaten and brittle that they give you lots of splinters.

My oyster dreams were finally realized a few weeks ago when, joined by our friends Riva and Phil, we finally aimed the car in the direction of Tomales Bay Oyster Company. Tomales Bay is a scrappy oyster upstart compared to the more yuppified Hog Island Oyster Company down the road, which had no picnic table reservations available within the next two months. Yes, that's right. Picnic table reservations. That's the downside of the Bay Area. You're really not going to discover any secret gems anywhere. Everybody knows about everything already, so your only hope is to buy your tickets early or make your reservations early, and arrive early. To everything. Always.

Tomales Bay Oyster Co. doesn't take reservations (that's why they're the scrappy upstart) so we got there at 11 a.m. Only about 1/4 of the picnic tables had been claimed, and we got a nice spot overlooking the one inch of water that was murking around the bay. I tried not to dwell on the sludge as I sucked down oyster after oyster directly from the little woven sacks. Phil and I were the only oyster fans of the four of us, so we fired up some coconut curry marinated pork and soy-sesame beef skewers for our hungry loved ones. Phil also slapped some oysters on the grill and they emerged unbelievably delicious. Something magical happens to the grilled oyster (beyond the fact that it eventually opens up so you don't have to wrestle with the shell); I think the brine evaporates or gets swallowed up by the oyster itself, perhaps in a last desperate attempt to save its own life. Grilled oysters taste smooth and smoky, and have a completely different texture from the raw ones.

I brought a little tub of mignonette, some lemons and limes, and my precious and untested oyster knife that I bought on my way out of France in 2006. At the time I knew that it was an entirely ridiculous purchase given that I'd never shucked an oyster before I lived there. This must have been the same sort of sentiment that led to my purchase of mother-of-pearl caviar spoons and a silicone cannele mold. I was obviously clinging to the dream of a French lifestyle in which Christmas means ordering a special crate of oysters from your poissonniere to eat with your family, and Christmas shopping involves strolling past endless oysters on display outside cafes and restaurants.

(These fantasy lifestyle purchases remind me of a recent shoe-shopping trip to Nordstrom, where I strutted around on spicy three-inch high Cole Haan leather boots before purchasing a pair of humble black suede booties with zero heel and a rather grandmotherly aspect. Shoving a sexy boot on my left foot and a practical one on my right, I pointed to my left and told my mom and the saleswoman, "These boots represent the woman I wish I was. And these," I said, pointing to my right foot, "represent the woman that I am." My mom nodded approvingly. Clearly we are both sensible Midwestern women. If I had been born in France, the shoe would have been on the other foot. So to speak.)

So, if you too have a fantasy oyster knife and would like to take it to the proving grounds of Tomales Bay, here are my tips: Get there early. Bring two dishtowels to protect your hands while shucking, and a tablecloth if you want to impress everyone around you. Bring beer. Bring hand-wipes. And don't skimp on the accompaniments, because the chances are good that the tables near you will have brie, fine wines, chilled watermelon, berry cobbler or other things that look especially delicious, and after everyone has had enough to drink, you can trade food. Lastly, whatever you do, throw some of those oysters on the grill. You won't regret it.