oyster loaf

Gggg one of my favorites is American Typewriter, but it has no slant, no italics that are often wanted. One of these mornings I’ll return to the search for the perfect combo with a magical lc g.

Quiet, still morning. Three boys or young men, so youths, below, two with cast nets throwing, maybe for mullet, third somewhat reluctantly trailing along dragging a red bucket. They’ve attracted a following of gulls circling for whatever might be tossed.

Oysters. Lately returned from Walmart with a container of their Willamette oysters. Good. Not perfect to my taste as my lifelong Apalachicola, Gulf Coast or Chesapeake Bay oysters, but half the price, I try to find my right use for them. Yesterday close. Mama used to make an oyster loaf, which she remembered from her childhood, Daddy Walt cycling home from work on his bicycle, this was before 1924 when he bought his first automobile, a blue 1924 Maxwell touring car, 

having stopped at a local delicatessen, bought, and heading home with a huge oyster loaf as a treat for family supper. When he’d stopped for ice cream he’d pedal extra fast, mama told me, lest it melt; not quite so fast with the oyster loafs. Besides, if the loafs cooled, they could be warmed in the oven of the gas range. In those days, mama said, there was a gas meter on the side of the house, by the kitchen, serving not only the gas range but all those gas heaters that provided winter heat in those days. When the gas ran out, they went out and inserted another quarter in the meter. I well remember when those heaters were in 1317 E. Strong Street, one per room including bathrooms, before the floor furnace was installed between living room and dining room. 

But the oyster loaf. A large loaf of French bread, top sliced off and loaf hollowed out. Spread catsup on the bread so it soaks in. Fill the loaf with layers of fried oysters, dill pickle, fried oyster, dill pickle, fried oysters, maybe lettuce and tomatoes, and press down, packed tight. 

Put the top back on and place in oven to heat. Pull down all window shades, turn out all lights, lock all doors in case anyone hears about it. Don’t answer the phone. When loaf is toasted and warm throughout, remove from oven, slice and eat. Best if wife does not like oysters.

Yesterday’s breakfast, and again this morning, I had all the ingredients but the French bread, so I use thin ww bread. I don’t fry either, so shake and bake oysters. By no means the oyster loaf mama made that I grew up loving, not even close, but taste hints for memories. 

Late morning: ordination celebration at StAndrew’s Episcopal Church just down the Bay shoreline, where I grew up.

DThos+ 
somewhere downstream in +Time+