Oysters with Kay

Anyone else's weekend go by way too quickly? Can we hear it for the four day work week? Yea, unlikely. I think three days would be a perfect amount of time to collect and regroup mentally: one day to play, one day to be productive, and one day to do absolutely nothing. I think I'd be a lot more industrious during the work week if I knew I had a day of total rest to look forward to during the weekend. But while we of the M-F nine-to-fiver ranks have a mere two days to get done everything from laundry to house keeping to catching up with friends at a bar to finally getting to cook a decent breakfast, there's always this difficult choice to make: do I do nothing and decompress, or do I do something to make good use of my free time? Unfortunately, something usually wins out over nothing.

As my "something" this weekend, I decided to get the hell out of SF. Sometimes you've just had enough, you know? This was probably heavily influenced by the crowd at Big Foot Tavern on Polk the night before and their general insistance to act with pretty heavy douchebaggery - you know the kind, if there's a narrow spot or a doorway, they have to stand there and refuse to move - and women pushing 30 who still throw up in the bar bathroom. C'mon ladies, get it together.

I rant and rave about the California coast quite a bit. To me there's nothing that can even come close. What can I say, I love it. It's so close to home but has a completely different look and feel. Tomales Bay is home to some of the best oyster farms that cater to the Bay Area, specifically Hog Island Oyster Co, which I could also go on about for days (the Ferry Building location, the outdoor seating, the $1/oyster happy hour, the grilled cheese sandwiches??). Anyway, my cohort and I ended up in Tomales Bay, and we wanted to eat some oysters since it was a gorgeous day, and we found ourselves at the farm:

The best part? While restaurant oysters can run $2.50 per a tiny itty bitty single, even more if you want the fresh specialty ones, buying a tray of clusters and shucking them yourself is dirt cheap (by oyster standards) at $10 for a dozen.

... and also fun, if you have a hidden talent for shucking, like me. Also I'm excited that this time I didn't slice my hand open, but then again, I was also not using a kitchen towel for a glove like last time.

Go city girl, go! Observe the deserted "picnic area" behind me. Just moments earlier it was infested with Marina types, couples wearing matching Giants t-shirts and Hog Island sweatshirts, throwing a football around for all of 15 seconds and calling each other "babe" constantly (ie. "Babe, can you take a picture of me walking to the trash can?" I kid you not.)