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Since I was almost messily killed by a Plouf mussel during SF Dine about town some years ago, shellfish and I have not been friends. Not on speaking terms, to say the least of ingestive ones.
Yet the famous Tomales Bay oysters were temptation enough to lure my traumatized taste buds and guts back into the fray. ‘twas a rarity that P gets a long weekend off. Apparently in the tech world, back in the grinder called Oracle, legal holidays were a fantasy. Now that he works in health, we joined some friends for a caravan Northward in search of fresh seafood to BBQ.
Directions for the drive led us over the Richmond bridge, onto 101 N, through a bunch of scenic and windy roads that got us chatting about sea bands (but much less nausea inducing than the drive to Stinson beach). We crossed a graffiti bridge that had me singing Prince in my head, onto Highway 1 and pass many grazing Holstein cows.
Here the directions read: “When you start seeing the bay to your left, look for a white picket fence and a bunch of Asians.” Hmm.
Sure enough, there stood a white picket fence which looked like it was being remodeled, and a huge sign being hoisted by chains. “Tomales Bay Oyster Company- since 1909”
Course #1
We are starving. Groggy and whiny from hitting the road around 8 am on a holiday. Upon arrival, the task at hand is to secure a first come first serve space and drag our heavy ass coolers over. Once two picnic tables were claimed, it was time to graze on something BBQ’s get prepped. At this point all that is available in the ready-to eat consists of organic strawberries from my Planet Organic box, potato chips, Milton’s crackers, laughing cow cheese, and beers. Breakfast of champions! Clearly several of the picnic tables are new as one can tell by the new unworn wood. I am so glad we don’t have to combat for turf. We huddle in our sweatshirts as the cool bay breeze lingers.
Course #2
Required some brave souls to shuck a bag of medium raw oysters for the benefit of the salivating bystanders. Hot sauce and limes were quickly produced as these morning appetizers were shucked, then sucked down. We all gleefully appreciate that the same oysters, less fresh, if served in a restaurant on a bed of ice would have cost us like 4x the price.
Course #3
Jumbo BBQ Oysters! Oh yeah, this is what drew the crowds. When Eric lugs 2 large $50 bags of this up the hill I think “we can’t possibly eat that many!” One version was heated and then sprinkled with butter and herbs. Others stuck with the classic limes and hot sauce. The clear crowd favorite: Tommy’s Asian black bean sauce, garlic studded BBQ oysters. We had a party of 15 and yes, we DID indeed eat all of those oysters, raw, cooked, to the last one. We left behind a pile of empty shells like Neanderthal cave carnage.
Course # 4
The sun has emerged full bore from the clouds and everyone starts stripping layers and spraying one another in sunscreen mist. Flavorful BBQ chicken drumsticks marinated for 2 days paired with Haruna’s lovely sangrias, one white, one red-chunky and delish. Life is good and it is truly feeling like a holiday. All the chicken is snapped up in a flash and the sangria is history.
Course #5
Sausages, and I mean real sausages wrapped in butcher paper, none of that cheap plastic shrink wrapped half pre cooked stuff. The desserts start to go down the hatch too, chocolate chip cookies, Krispy kremes, pudding cakes, home made strawberry bread.
Course #6
Right about this point we are sinking into a massive food coma, the alcohol and blazing sun (so weirdly hot for the bayshore) don’t exactly help with the consciousness factor. I keep lamenting that if only they had an espresso cart all would be perfection…but I guess if they can’t even manage actual toilets instead of portalets an Italian espresso machine is too much to ask. P keeps asking me to go on short walks around the tiny property to get the blood going and we swear we are done eating.
BUT a bag of small, fresh, clams is grilled in an aluminum lasagna pan, where Haruna graces it with butter and herbs. I stuff down a couple of these and a shot of Soju (Korean liquor, which I generally recommend one avoids until at least sundown!).
After 3 pm we start to clean up our picnic tables and pack up, swearing we don’t need to eat dinner. Some of the younger and clearly livelier amigos discuss plans to go party in SF or SJ that night. We become lost in Pt. Reyes downtown, which turns out to be a charming detour. A Chinese Chuckwagon (think bright red taco truck) parked across from ye olde Western Saloon, kitty corner from Troy’s farmer market and grocery – a place one can pick up bales of hay as well as an heirloom tomato or as we found: DAMN good coffee. Imagine, a coffee kiosk that offers organic brew, Dagoba chocolate, Straus family milk! Oh Troy, how I wish you were open next door to my house…
So what was up with all the Asian people anyways? There truly was a small sea of us. Koreans roasting Kal Bi beside their oysters, HK folks chattering over asparagus and clams, and every single kind of Asian American. All I can say is that I guess it is in our culture to center an entire daylong outing on food, and we’re quite partial to shellfish in particular. Oh, and we’re also known for being fairly bargain conscious. All this feasting ran only $10 per person for all those bags of shellfish!! The rest was done potluck style & I gotta say Tomales Bay has gotta be the culinary bargain of the year. So long as you don’t fear a drive out and some labor shucking, it’s a must-try.
That evening, many in our party fall into a long sunshine/food/alcohol induced naptime. I end a lovely day with a 4 mile run at Lake Elizabeth, and a dinner of organic carrots and nectarines with peppermint tea. Happy Independence Day to ALL!
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