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