Oysters….

“He was a very valiant man who first adventured on eating of oysters.” – James I

I do wonder what the first person to crack open an oyster thought. “Look, Look, Look! A slick, gray loogie! Let’s eat some.” Why in the world would he or she decide to put it in their mouth much less chew and swallow…must have been very hungry.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they did. I love oysters…raw, roasted, smoked, fried, with spinach in Oysters Roc, and the oyster dressing I wrote about earlier. I especially like oyster stew which is what I am craving at this moment. It is a cold New Years Eve, a fine night for oyster stew.

Oyster stew has been a New Year’s tradition in our house since we began celebrating it by sleeping through the midnight ball drop. That tradition is on hold as Linda recovers.

A history lesson. “Gather ’round chilin’s!”

Had it not been for the oyster the Jamestown colony might not have held on during the “Starving Times” of 1609. Jamestown prevailed only because sixty or eighty of the First Families of Virginia dragged themselves downriver from their original swampy landing site where they subsisted on little but Crassostrea virginica, the native American oyster.

The English weren’t fans of the oyster…Europeans in general weren’t fans. The generation that founded Jamestown regarded oysters as poor fare. Shakespeare described oysters as “foul” and linked them with the poorhouse. King James I is the earliest candidate for the authorship of the assessment that “he was a valiant man who first adventured on eating of oysters.”

I agree with James I but am so glad all of that changed…it took a while for me to jump onto the bandwagon. I know some of you are not fans, but the lowly oyster has gone from “poor folk” food to being coveted by the rich and everyone in between.

I get triggered by memories, but I am unsure where this one came from…well, it is a cold evening, perfect for oyster stew.

When I was a kid, my mother would sometimes make oyster stew. It was very basic. Butter, milk, oysters, salt, and pepper. My father might add a bit of hot sauce or catsup to his. I didn’t find it particularly filling unless I added half a sleeve of crushed soda crackers to it and to be honest, I wasn’t a fan of oysters at that age.

My grandmother would never make oyster stew, she would make salmon stew. It was much cheaper than oysters, came in a can, and fit in with her Depression Era frugality. I was probably a bigger fan of the salmon stew but used a half sleeve of crackers with it too.

Thinking about oyster stew, I looked at my bride who was snoozing. She is recovering from her sixth chemo treatment and a week later stroke and needs to be snoozing. As a blustery wind blew, I thought about a raw and blustery night some thirty years ago on the coast of Carolina. It seems some of my most perfect memories occurred on raw and blustery coastal nights.

We have a love affair with the coast of South Carolina. I thought we would end up living there…we had our chances, but they never quite panned out. The timing was always wrong. Now we have found our little piece of heaven to be as far from the coast as we can be and still be in South Carolina. Not so far that we don’t have access to oysters…mountain oysters.

This day began with a football game at Myrtle Beach. The North-South Allstar Football Game is played there, and I was lucky to have an athlete honored. It was gray and misty and by the time the game was over, dark, and cold.

We had decided not to spend the night and would make the four-hour trip back home afterwards, but one does not come to the coast without sampling the coastal faire and it was a perfect night for oyster stew.

We went to the Sea Captain’s House because we knew of its oyster stew was great or we went because it was close by. The key was that we went. The stew was oyster and artichoke. The company was great and that probably made the stew great.

This was the mid-Eighties and the Sea Captain’s House hadn’t been crowded by tall hotels yet and gone through modern renovations and enlargement. During those days it was truly an old house.

We sat in what once was the old residence’s Florida room and watched as the sea birds rode the waves in the light cast by the spotlights on the side of the house. It was quite romantic. Holding hands listening to the wind rattle the storm windows and sitting hip to hip watching a fire roaring in the fireplace…life’s little and simple pleasures. Oh, and there was oyster stew too.

We stayed too long…or not long enough and didn’t drag ourselves home until four in the morning. I miss the years when we were young and foolish. I am making a promise. I will be old and foolish just as soon as my bride recovers her strength.

Reality check: I made the mistake of pulling up the Sea Captain’s House’s website. They no longer offer oyster and artichoke stew and judging from the prices, we couldn’t afford it anyway.

Basic Oyster Stew for Two

Ingredients

One pint of oysters

Four cups of whole milk (For creamier stew substitute half of the milk with half and half)

¼ cup of butter

Salt and pepper to taste

Crackers (Oyster or Saltines)

Parsley

Directions

Put a colander over a bowl; drain oyster juice and reserve juice.

Rinse oysters gently in a colander to rinse away any shells…be sure to check for pearls.

Melt the butter in a soup pot or large saucepan over low heat.

Add rinsed raw oysters and gently warm for a few minutes never taking heat off low. Let the oyster edges curl.

To the oysters and butter, add whole milk, oyster juice and stir.

Gently warm soup (low simmer), stirring occasionally until heated through. THIS IS KEY: Do not boil and do not scald milk.

Add salt and black pepper to taste.

Garnish with parsley and serve with oyster crackers or saltines.

Don Miller’s works may be purchased at https://www.amazon.com/stores/Don-Miller/author/B018IT38GM?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Images from Canva and Shutterstock

Bah Humbug…I’m Blessed but I’m not Happy or Merry

“Reflect upon your present blessings — of which every man has many — not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” ― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, and Other Christmas Writings

It is a drizzly Christmas morning…perfect. The puppies hate me.

I’m struggling. I want to be happy and merry. Afterall, it is “tis the season….” I can’t be happy and will not make merry in the traditional sense.  I will be blessed…I am truly blessed despite our misfortunes.

This is my “hard candy Christmas” if you are familiar with the song from the movie “The Best Little Whore House in Texas.” No, I’m not closing my house of ill-repute but there is something sad yet hopeful about the song and there is much sadness in my heart…but I am blessed that there is joy there too. I could have been much sadder had the roller coaster left the tracks.

Three weeks ago, we were celebrating our last chemo treatment as our oncologist used the words “full remission” pending a CT scan. Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” rang in my head before Dolly’s “Hard Candy Christmas” played. Linda was in full remission. Doesn’t get any better than that.

The elation lasted a week. I found my bride alive but unresponsive that following Thursday. One week after her last chemo. One week of smiles and making plans for the future. One week until an infarction landed in her brain. A week in the hospital and another week and counting in rehab. Christmas and the New Years will be spent in a hospital room unless I kidnap her.

There is happiness along with sorrow. We’re blessed, I still have her to kidnap and she is making headway, not a pun, in her recovery. She has a long row to hoe yet, but she is hoeing like crazy.

We’re blessed that family and friends have rushed in to help even if it is just a visit or send their love by other means. I can’t be merry, but I can be blessed. I can tell funny stories but the laughter is on the outside not the inside…unless Linda laughs with me.

Daughter Ashley has been a life saver as have Linda’s friends, Lynn, and Louise. Yes, a great blessing. Thanks to Ashley’s friend Jill who “might” have pulled a few strings. Blessed she had strings to pull.

My own family and friends have given me the support to remain upright. Steve and Rebecca, Hawk, Zack, thanks for being my blessing. Lynn thanks for checking in and keeping me upbeat.

Beth, Barbara, and Robbie, thanks for taking the pressure off with my 98-year-old mother-in-law. Maybe after this you can audition as a singing group. “And now…Beth, Barbara, and Robbie….”

The doctors, nurses, and therapists have been wonderful…many who were former students of Miss PE. Glad she didn’t fail them because they didn’t fail her.

I just can’t be happy and merry. Happy and merry were seasons ago but I can hope for happiness and merriment to return. I don’t want to be the old man feeding pigeons alone. I want to be the old man with the old woman feeding pigeons…I want to do more than feed pigeons.

Young people…never, ever put things off.  Live your life a little bit of retirement at a time. Never turn down dessert and eat it first if you want to. Avoid if you can, the “Hard Candy Christmas.”

Blessings to you on whatever holiday you celebrate.

“I’ll be fine and dandy
Lord, it’s like a hard candy Christmas
I’m barely getting through tomorrow
But still, I won’t let sorrow bring me way down”

,

Don Miller writes at https://www.amazon.com/stores/Don-Miller/author/B018IT38GM?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

“Plumb Tuckered Out”

“Rest is not a luxury; it is a necessity. Take the time off to replenish your energy and recharge your soul.
In the midst of life’s chaos, find solace in the stillness of rest that is where true rejuvenation resides.”
― Dr. Lucas D. Shallua

I am at the point where I must recharge and to do that I’m stepping away from my blog until the beginning of the new year…maybe.

To quote my grandfather after an eight-hour shift in the cotton mill followed by four or more hours behind a plow, “I’m plumb tuckered out.” To quote Jimmy Buffett, (I’m) “down to rock bottom again” although I don’t think he meant it the way I do in his song “A Pirate Looks at Forty.”

The tank that contained what little creative appeal or energy I might have had is making sucking sounds. Overall, my energy tank is making sucking sounds, too.

Thanksgiving is behind me, and Christmas is ahead. My holiday spirit is as elusive as one of our coastal “haints.” My “git up and go has got up and went.”

I am normally affected by SAD, seasonal affective disorder, but this year it is as oppressive as I have ever felt it…but then this year I actually have reasons to be depressed.

I’m tired but I don’t want to whine too much. I don’t get enough sleep or rest, but my bride has been fighting a deadly disease and my frustrations seem to be quite selfish at best. Also, she has, to this point, fought the cancer to a standstill. There is reason for Thanksgiving, but I can’t seem to smile.

Chemo treatment number six comes this next week followed by a PET scan at some juncture afterwards. The PET scan will tell the tale. I will withhold my smile until after the final diagnosis. I am hopeful it will show full remission.

So…to everyone who takes the time to read my ramblings, I hope your Thanksgiving was truly thankful and that all your holiday wishes come true. I’ll touch base again in the New Year. Hopefully I will have good news to share and a revitalized spirit to go with them.

An early Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all.

Don Miller’s authors page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Don-Miller/author/B018IT38GM?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true