From our rest stop on this morning’s walk we watched beyond the two boats and to the left as a couple of porpoises rolled and had their breakfast. Then on back to the cars and home without our usual Friday breakfast stop, as Linda and I are leaving momentarily for a day in Apalachicola for lunch and to make reservations for two overnights, one in a week or two just for the halibut, one for a long weekend in October to officiate a wedding in Trinity Church and supply for the rector that Sunday. October seems a long way off, but I’ve had Apalachicola in my blood since the 1940s, when I used to go there with my father in his truck when he was in the seafood business. I know we bought oysters there, then sometimes we’d drive on down to South Florida to buy freshwater perch and bream. The truck was a 1937 Chevrolet ton and a half army ambulance that my father bought right after WW2 and converted for his use. From olive drab he painted it silver and had a local artist paint a huge red snapper on each rear panel. I remember the artist: a enormously fat African-American man with six fingers on each hand.
Oysters for breakfast this morning, their date is up so I first boiled them until cooked, then drained, spread on an oiled pan and into the oven to bake at 350° for fifteen or twenty minutes. With thin ww bread, butter.
What, oysters for breakfast? Going to Apalachicola, will there be oysters for lunch too? Nun, ist der Papst katholisch?