Easter brunch was a fresh ham, although Bunny (my Uncle) was very close to making both a leg of lamb and a cured ham. And my Mum had to be physically restrained when she saw whole suckling pigs at her pig farmer's stall at the St. Lawrence Market. Easter brunch was lovely, saw two of my siblings, two nephews and a niece. I made my youngest nephew cry, I was assured he was just tired.
My Canadian friends made sure that we were all tender Easter morning by hosting a birthday party (Becky!) the evening before. Complete with my dear friend Adam, aka DJ Opkode, spinning a great set in drag. We were all very quiet while Mum was pouring us our Bloody Caesar's Sunday morning.
I've been back in Boston since Monday afternoon, when I met with my thesis adviser who thinks I'm making good progress with my research. Right now I am working on historic newspaper coverage of the oyster wars, as well as looking at the laws that were created surrounding the oyster industry in late 1800's. Judging by the newspapers and some other texts I've read, oyster farmers (or oystermen) were considered a fairly rough group of people. This was a reputation that held true for both legal oyster farmers and illegal oyster dredgers. The media actually dubed the illegal oyster dredgers "oyster pirates" making them menacing but also romanticizing oysters and oyster culture.
Oysters as a food are sexy and a little dangerous. There is very little intent in the life of an oyster, therefore humanity has projected these traits onto this bivalve. Oysters are not like the apple (Christianity's favorite vaginal place holder) brightly coloured with a sweet taste and pleasing curves. Oysters are more menacing, even sinister. They are hard and nubbly gray, vaguely rock-like. In order to eat them you must pry them open with a dull knife. After opening them you must possess the character to place this half alive creature into your mouth, chew and swallow it. The reward? Mild salty, briny flavour. A little sweetness. And undeniable ocean wateriness. The conquest associated with prying open an oyster shell with the hard exterior and quivering slimy interior have undeniable associations. But unlike the apple, which seems initially more appealing, the more challenging oyster yields a greater overall satisfaction.
Why is it then that oyster farmers are associated with danger, romance and a certain machismo, while apple farmers enjoy no such reputation? Is it as simple a matter of water versus land? Crab fishermen get big TV deals while tomato farmers get mentioned in news only when an outbreak of salmonella brings them to the forefront.
There is nothing sexy about salmonella.
8 Comments
Mike
4/25/2009 11:07:30 am
Salmonella is sexy to someone suffering from ebola. I call this my theory of relative suffering.
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Sydney
4/25/2009 11:45:56 am
Hah!
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Sydney
4/27/2009 02:53:44 am
Apparently there are a few people who feel apples are very sexy. Some of the most noteworthy being my cousins Nancy and Victor in the Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia who own an apple farm.
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Jules
4/27/2009 11:37:30 am
I also feel apples are sexy. Perhaps because of the whole Adam and Eve thing, sexy nakedness, temptation etc.. But for sure, apples are more sexy than oysters (in my humble opinion).
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Sydney
4/27/2009 11:29:19 pm
At least it's probably best to keep them both out of babies eyes. But then again...
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Jules
5/5/2009 12:15:20 pm
Interesting point Miss. Amanda.... but I would say the cries of hunger are far worse than the "I am pooping and am not so comfy WTF people????" Not to mention the moral ramifications. :)
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5/31/2012 03:39:08 pm
Useful information, many thanks to the author. It is puzzling to me now, but in general, the usefulness and importance is overwhelming. Very much thanks again and good luck!
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