Shucking Oysters and Stoli Vodka Chasers
We stood on a wooden porch under the insouciant rays of the mid-morning sun. He held a craggy oyster the color of mica and it fully fit the palm of his generous hand. Then with a stab and a twist, he set free the brackish amuse-bouche. With encouragement and trepidation followed by a hearty heave-ho,