Killing dinner

It's me doing the shucking here, but John got in on the action a little, too.

As someone who revels in the cleaning of a Dungeness crab, I did expect to enjoy the DIY oyster experience a little more. It just took so long, and I was so worried that I was going to stab myself. Then there was the nagging fear that we were going to die of some oyster-borne disease.

It was nice to eat our fill (two dozen) for less than twenty-five bucks (if you don't count the thirty-five dollars I spent on the knife and glove). And eat our fill we did, as both John and I experienced oyster burps later as we watched (most of) The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.