Going to the Waterbar on a nice-weathered Saturday afternoon is a silly idea: everybody and their twice-removed cousins are also hawking for the same precious seats around the bar to get the 1-dollar featured oysters. It’s crowded. Very crowded. It’s like parking in San Francisco. Mr. Global Eats recommended the place during the weekdays, I heeded not his advice and here we were, standing fidgetily, looking awkwardly at people eating oysters, hoping to stare them out of their seats. A couple finished their lunch date; we three hopped in before the server could even wipe the table clean.
Today’s featured victim was the Cove Miyagi, a California native with a “clean lettuce flavor”. The first time I was ever fooled by the juicy appearance of a raw bivalve (an oyster) to eat one, I had to gather every ounce of self control in me to swallow it down. The second time was a raw clam, and it wasn’t a whole lot better, but I knew what to expect. Today was actually the third time, and I had more than one oyster, so I’m proud of myself. Something about that brackish smell and taste melded with the cocktail sauce, the lemon, and the green onion is romantic.
That said, I almost died from the radish cream sauce. I was in the middle of chatting with the girls and the surprise attack brought me to tears. Such innocent whiteness, such strength punching the nose from the inside.