"Are You Kidding Me?"

My fish 'n' chips and occasional salmon steak has been put to shame. Last night at dinner with Ellen's parents, I got some real sea food. Kate, Ellen's mom, and I ordered the same thing, and we thought it would be another salmon steak. Ha. "Are you kidding me?" I said to our waitress when she brought out my dinner. She laughed; I looked at Kate; we cringed. Right table. Turns out, we ordered another seafood platter, which was basically 39% of all the marine life in the River Shannon. The salmon was a shade of reddish-orange, smoked and raw, piled high on a bed of salad. About 15 mussels, still in their shells, ran around the perimeter of the plate. Around the salmon was fresh shrimp and crab. And finally, hanging out in their shells, simmering in a pool of salt water, was raw oyster. It was a hell of a lot of food, but I managed to throw back and enjoy most of it. It's noon the next day and I'm still not hungry again. It was so fresh and tasting of the sea that we were convinced that after we ordered, they radioed ahead to the docks and had someone catch our dinner right then and there. Eating the raw oyster was the biggest challenge of the night, though. Kate and I sprinkled lemon juice on it, raised our shells, saluted, and dumped the shell down the hatch at the same time, the sea water and raw meat flowing down our gullets, like we were taking a shot of Irish whisky. I tried to chase it with my Guinness, but the taste of the food, as it was all night, was so distinct that even that tasted like it came straight from the sea. I've come a long way since Egg McMuffins, I'd say.