Laughing so hard it hurts

As Dave and I were catching up on Friday night, I looked at my hands and realized that after a long shower and a 20-minute grooming session, I still had dirt caked under my nails. Me (holding up my hands): Look at this. How can you stand it? That and I leave smelly oyster gloves by the door and my oyster boots on the stairs. You're officially married to an oyster farmer. Dave: I've been married to a farmer for months. I draw the line when the dog barfs up an oyster shell. Me: Good enough.

Between him and my cohorts, last week was a painfully funny one. Joe of Jeeves worked with us through Thursday and by Wednesday after the tide, I think I'd had my share of laughing fits. Besides picking on me for being old ("You're halfway to 62!") and for touching a dead skate ("You touched his butt! Butt hole toucher!"), they rapped, joked, culled, and swapped stories together all week. But it kept me laughing and the days flew by.

Friday, we worked a half day and then Berg, Steve (of Jeeves) and I hopped in the truck for an Island Creek field trip. Steve had found out about E&T Farms in West Barnstable which farms fish and vegetables in the same environment (called aquaponics) and he and Berg wanted to see how it's all done. We got down there and met up with Ed (the E of E&T) who gave us a quick tour. In the front of the building, he's got about 8 tanks of koi, tilapia, and bass and behind that room sits the greenhouse where he's hydroponically growing lettuces, tomatoes, squash, chard, and microgreens. The waste and water from the fish tanks is piped over to the greenhouse where the plants are grown on racks that are hooked directly up to the water source; when the fish are in their tanks, the plants need no other nutrients. The water is then collected and sent outside to a meadow of cattails that Ed says they sell wholesale. From there, the water is treated with baking soda to neutralize everything, and then it's used to refill the fish tanks and start the process again. It's a pretty incredible system and I was interested to see how much he's able to reuse and recycle his water and waste. Ed sells his fish to a few places in Boston and around the East Coast and the veggies go to Cape restaurants and a few farmer's markets down there. They also have some honey bees -- Ed has a nifty little tattoo of bees and some honeycomb on his shoulder. That's true love right there.

I didn't have my camera Friday so I can't show off Ed's place but if you're on the Cape this summer, keep an eye out for him at the markets.

I've also got some pics and stories from the B&G Oyster Invitational from Sunday - I'll get those up in the next day or so but in the meantime, check out Go Shuck an Oyster's recap.

A taste of summer

We had a record-breaking hot one yesterday: it hit 91 in Boston and we were in the high 80s on the water all day. My crew was out on the tide by 7 and around 8, the heat picked up and those huge rubber waders felt like lead. But it was a super long tide so we got lots of picking done, despite the dreaded weed that still covers everything. And, despite this friendly little spider crab who I almost picked up since he was disguised as an oyster.

A2 wasn't thrilled and now I know why. These things are prehistoric and when you're inches away from the mud, terrifying to come face to face with. But he didn't do any harm and eventually scurried away and buried himself back in the mud. Where he belongs.

After the tide, we picked up Joe of Jeeves (who's helping us out for a few days), along with some iced coffees back on land before heading back to the float to cull. After an hour or so I was broiling and decided to take my chances in the freezing waters with a quick swim. It was absolutely frigid -- the kind of cold that takes your breath away -- but felt incredible. Later, Shore said I should try to get myself into the 12-month club and hit the water every month of the year. Not sure I can get myself in when the water temp is lower that mid 50s, but we'll see. I know I'll be going in a lot once things pick up. Joe was telling A2 and I about the endless summer battle they have tossing people in. Once that cell phone comes out of your pocket, all bets are apparently off.

It was a long day in the heat and sun but I finally had that aha moment. I used to spend days and days behind my desk, staring hopelessly out a window into the summer sunshine wondering what else I would be doing if I only I could go outside. I probably wasted countless hours doing that on someone else's dime (apologies to any former bosses). If half of this summer is anything like yesterday, I may never go back to an office again.

Quick trip to New Orleans

I took my first break from the farm to trek down to Jazz Fest in New Orleans this weekend. It was a combo trip: music festival with my husband Dave (a work trip for him), surprise birthday visit with my Dad (his big 60th is next weekend). Mom, sis, brother-in-law Brian and our best family friends, Carol & Jim Williams, joined the party, too. Dave and I got in on Thursday and hit up Lilette where I had my idea of the perfect dish - crispy fried Korabuta pork belly (each little package melted when I bit into it) tossed with pea shoots, melon wedges, cucumber bits, tarragon, mint, and fennel slices in one huge salad. It was that utterly addictive concoction of salty sweet with lots of acid -- brilliant since it paired this delicious but extra fatty piece of meat with all this light, spring freshness. We then traipsed over to the Howlin Wolf for some brass band music and Dave's favorite part of the night, the Lunchbox special (a shot a whiskey and a Miller Hi Life for $7). Two of those and we were good for the night.

Friday, after saying hi to my sis Shannon and her guy Brian, we made our way to the racetrack for the Jazz & Heritage Festival where a few of the bands Dave's agency represents were playing this weekend. We spent the day wandering between shows and hung out with the guys from the Benjy Davis Project for a bit before I finally dragged Dave over to the Jazz Fest Oyster Bar (it is, after all, a professional obligation).

We stood in line for a dozen, watching the shuckers rip through burlap bags of oysters. These were from Black Bay, an area where, like most of the Gulf, the oyster farms were almost completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. They've obviously had an incredible recovery and we were psyched to try out the Gulf flavor. A few major differences: they serve the oysters on what we would consider the top, or flat, shell instead of inside the cup. They also had a huge condiment bar with horseradish and hot sauce. All I wanted was a couple squirts of lemon for these bad boys, which were huge and stuffed with meat. My first bite yielded decent results: earthy, almost muddy flavor with some really good chew. But oysters 2 and 3, plus a few that Dave tried were, sadly, frozen almost completely solid.

Not pleasant...at all. We gave up after those first few, utterly disappointed, and made our way back out into the heat of the festival. I made up for it with a few really tasty fried oysters at Besh Steak later that night (after we surprised Dad and spent a little time on the casino floor).

Saturday gave me the chance to show off ICO oysters to the fam. I'd had 3 dozen shipped down to our hotel so we sat by the rooftop pool and Uncle Jim and I shucked them for the crew. Jim was actually the one who introduced me to oysters back in Spartanburg, SC. We met while living there in the 80s and spent the years as a family ever since. Carol reminded me that Spartanburg was where Jim first started shucking oysters at home; now it's one of his favorite holiday traditions (that, along with watching old classics like Holiday Inn every year). Jim, meanwhile, told endless stories, like trying to explain why he and my Dad once used a vice and a greasy screwdriver to open oysters ("Those suckers just wouldn't open") and how his brother Biff once jabbed himself with a shucking knife and passed out on the floor at the sight of blood. And then, almost immediately, he did it to himself. He was using this handy little tool Mom had smuggled over from Houston, but still managed to jab himself twice, drawing blood (and when Jim jabs, boy he does it with gusto).

After a few more shows and more fantastic food, I made my way back to Boston last night, hoping to get back as soon as humanly possible. If not for the oysters, than most definitely for the cochon, fried pork belly, boudin balls, and po boys. Between that and the company, it was an absolutely priceless trip.

We have growth!

We're seeing buds on the trees and now we've got growth on our oysters. We were stuck up at the shop yesterday due to weather but it gave us a nice break from the water and chance to catch up with all of the folks who wander in and out of the garage all day. The morning started with culling and listening to CJ's crazy weekend stories while he and Cory loaded up the truck. As Cory would say, "The kid's on fire." Shore joined us for a bit (looking every bit as haggard as CJ) and we got to chat with Billy who just got back from vacation. He was telling us about the weather diary he's kept for the last several years - says the water temps are probably up to about 40 degrees right now. I asked if he'd seen the weather trending one way or the other in general over the last few years and he said no, not really. "There are cycles here and there but for the most part, it's been the same. But we have had some pretty bad nor'easters at the end of April these past few years." Fingers crossed this year's an off one.

Also got to visit with John Brawley who came by and asked if we'd seen any edging on our oysters yet. He picked one up to show us: "See this white rim at the top? Means the water's warm enough for the shells to start growing back." Which also means all of those RTG's (return to grant's) we've been sending back to the water are repairing themselves more quickly. They'll sit for awhile longer but soon enough, we'll be able to re-harvest them and send them out to restaurants. A2 said that he'd noticed it while washing (we've been pumping up ocean water when we're on the float where you can really feel the difference in the temp). Brawley responded: "Yeah, the water doesn't hurt my hands so much anymore."

And my weather guy tells me we're looking at an 80-degree weekend. Wha?! Here's hoping we're on the upswing...for us and the oysters.

Getting ahead of the weather

Yesterday was a raw, choppy one where the clouds started thin and slowly worked their way into an impenetrable ceiling. Our float rocked all day long while A2 and I did our best to get ahead for the week. Culling wasn't a problem - it was keeping warm. But we had the heater on and for an hour or so, passed time singing Bob Marley tunes a cappella (turns out, A2 has quite the voice). Berg, meanwhile, spent the entire day dragging and pulled up around 40-50 crates. We helped him unload his crates onto the float at least three times and at the end of the day, ended up hauling all of the TBC's (to be culled) back to land and onto the truck. We'll most likely spend today at the shop since waters are sure to be too rough for us to get out there; we're expecting rain and a strong south wind for most of it. Plus, at least one of our boats, the Bat (short for Bateau) is going into the shop today. We weren't the only ones prepping. As we made our last trip to the float to pick up all of our finished bags, we saw Greg Morris put-putting his way into the marina -- the boat was so loaded up, all we could see was an orange wall of crates and two forms covered in yellow and orange shoveling water out of the bottom of the boat.

"The thing about April," Christian told me a few weeks back, "is that you get these gorgeous days, these 65, 70 degree days. And then, you get slammed with cold weather." Clearly he, and T.S. Eliot, know a thing or two about it.

The Float

I know what you're thinking. Just how did we get that thing in the water? Great question. Keep in mind that this is a 40-foot float with a custom-built garage/house on top of it so logistically, getting it into the water was something of a project. I wasn't there for the move but I hear it was a little dicey. Once the lift picked the float up there was some swaying and everything inside the house slid around a bit... but no major damage.

Hopefully that gives you some idea of the process. Personally, I found it fascinating.

So, now, we're at home on the water. As I mentioned, there are challenges. I arrived on Thursday morning expecting my crew to be hanging around waiting for me. After 20 minutes, I realized I'd literally missed the boat. I called Berg and sure enough, he had to shuttle back over to get me. I either need to get there before they do or be prepared to wait for a ride.

I also need to get used to that swaying feeling that stays with me for hours after reaching land. It never goes away. I'm actually swaying right now while I type this. Do I get seasick? Guess we'll find out.

And, yes, being a woman has finally caught up with me. Sadly, I can't (by that, I mean won't) pee off the side of the float. If I'm going to feel totally comfortable out there all day long, I need to learn how to drive the boat. Good motivator, right? Not a big deal but it'll probably take some practice.

On the up side, doing all of our work on the float is a breeze. I love being on the water all day, especially on days like yesterday where we were skimming 70 degrees and the wind was nill. I was out there in a tank top catching some sun when Greg Morris, a super-energetic grower and total grinder, and Christian Horne, another grower who's taught me some valuable tricks for being out on the water (keep your cell phone inside a spare sneaker), cruised past us. Morris jumped on the bow, his arms wide open and shouted, "Where's your tie-dye??"

At the moment, things are pretty quiet out there. We've got our battery powered, industrial-strength Dewalt radio but other than that, I can't hear anything but the water lapping against us and the occasional boat cruising past.

I hear the mantra all day long: "Just wait until the summer...Just wait till all the boats arrive...Just wait until it gets busy." Well, to be honest, I'm pretty content with where we're at right now. I imagine that once the warm weather starts to stick around, this quiet, empty piece of the harbor is going to get crazy. Between the moored boats and oyster floats, we'll be in the middle of a summer-long party. So for now, I'll soak up the silence. And practice driving the boat... without any obstacles.

We're on a float

Yesterday I arrived at the marina to find our house transplanted. It had been moved onto the water on Wednesday afternoon (with only a few minor hiccups) and attached to a mooring out in the bay. While it was definitely exciting to get out on the water, I was faced with a whole new set of challenges and adjustments.

In the morning, Berg and I loaded up the boat with some crates along with a battery-powered radio and some water pumps. Essentially, everything we've been doing (culling at the house, CWB back at the shop) has been streamlined and instead of carting crates from one location to another, everything will happen on the float. That means oysters come right out of the water, onto our culling table, and from there get washed (with sea water which gets pumped up with a tiny, gas-run pump) and bagged on the float. Our only transfer happens at the end of the day when we take the bags back to the shop to put them in the cooler.

This also means that we are out on the water all. day. long. Except for a few shuttles back and forth for lunch and our bag drop (read: bathroom stops), I spent the whole day out there. The views are so much better -- instead of staring at a falling down building, we've got 360 degree views of the Duxbury Bay and the beaches. The moored end of the house faces the wind, which for now is coming from the northeast, while the opposite end is protected and faces the south and looks directly at the Oyster Dude's summer house.

We've still got some wind to deal with out there so it's not all sunny skies just yet. I was freezing for the better part of the morning but we've got a heater and the hardest part, as promised by Skip, is the boat ride out in the morning. By afternoon, it was nice to be washing out in the sun.

Cory came out to help since A2 had the day off yesterday so we got our bags done by about 4. What better way to celebrate our first day on the water? A case of Buds and a party on the float. After we loaded our bags onto the truck, the suits came out to join us for a beer, as did some of the growers, like Graham and Don Merry plus a few of our friends from the Maritime School. It was a great way to kick off the summer... which suddenly feels like it's right around the corner.

Surf & Turf

Before I left the farm on Friday afternoon, Skip asked if any of us wanted steamers. Well, obviously, yes we did. We waited for him to come back from the water and pull a huge basket of steamer clams out of the back of his truck. The Andy's and I loaded up bags of the freshly dug clams before heading to the garage where Skip was pulling scallops out of the cooler. "Help yourselves," he said. pointing his thumb to a 20-pound bag of shucked scallops. These were the dayboats Island Creek has just started selling and they were so fresh, we were eating them raw out of the bag (the fisherman who sold them to us shucks them while he's dragging - all in a one-man operation). Each one was sweet and meaty with the perfect amount of soft, chewy bite.

Berg gave me his tips on how to do bacon-wrapped scallops: 450 degree oven, make sure it's completely pre-heated, wrap up the scallops and secure them with a toothpick. Pull them out when the bacon's brown and crispy.

He was right - they were perfection. Dave and I spent the afternoon flipping between the Masters and the Indians game, enjoying a progressive dinner of steamers (we used Greg Morris's recipe which I'll post later), bacon-wrapped scallops, and then steaks and twice-baked potatoes. Our new favorite way to dine.

Cohorts

"This day better go in your blog," Berg shouted to me as I was about to drive off today. "Why?" I yelled back. He was smiling. "Because it was spectacular!" It's true. Today was one of those days where everything just came together... despite the fact that it was sort of a sh*tshow.

I got to the farm around 8 and met up with A2 and Claudio. A2 announced that we needed to get bags in before the truck left for its daily deliveries. That meant we'd cull as many crates as we could for an hour or so, then head to the shop and wash and bag before 10 a.m. Up at the shop, we ran into CJ, the Island Creek driver (otherwise known as the Oyster Dude). He was waiting for our bags before he took off for his daily adventure, er, deliveries. By 1 p.m., we'd already put 50 bags into the cooler. Heck of a lot to get done before lunch. After a quick stop at Frenchie's for a bite, A2, Claudio and I got busy culling and spent the better part of the afternoon working on crates for tomorrow while Berg and Skip went dragging. At the end of the day, we had 43 crates hauled up and a pile of oysters waiting to be bagged tomorrow. Definitely a kick-ass day (despite the fact that it actually snowed for about ten seconds).

A few years ago, Dave left his job in publishing to become a bartender. It was a decision he didn't make on his own but we respected it and eventually he found his way to the Publick House where he still bartends on Thursdays and Sundays (he's since taken on a pretty killer day job at a music booking agency, too). At one point, when I was doing the daily grind behind a desk, I told him (somewhat jealously) that he and his "band of merry misfits" were just hanging out, wasting time. He'd found a group of buddies to tide him over until the next serious point in his life. The fun they had at the bar (and outside of it) actually helped him get through a lot and most of those guys have since stuck around to become good friends. Last week, as I was telling Dave about some shenanigan involving Berg, Don, and A2, he just laughed and shook his head. "Looks like you've found your own band of merry misfits.

He's right. We're already infested with inside jokes and I find myself doubled over in laughter at least twice a day. It's a blast. And I have them to thank for it.

Which is why I can't help but sum them up in some totally pointless but entertaining way.

Andy Yberg (Berg, A1, Steak Sauce) Likes: Surfing, soccer, the earth, Billy Joel, U2, mayo on his sandwiches, Frenchie's cubanos, Jack Johnson, Planet Earth, his roommate Gelly (whose name I probably misspelled), red bandannas, lobstering, grinding. Dislikes: Disorganization, laziness, phone calls.

Andy Seraikas (A2) Likes: Lost, Lost blogs, Hootie and the Blowfish, Akon, Kanye, karaoke, grilling, Polish horseshoes (usually together), that college song by that Asher guy, the Sports Guy, cooking, making up new lyrics to old songs, golf, his roommate Gelly, ghost stories, peanut butter and jelly, going to the gym, Dislikes: Country music, being serious,

Corydon Wyman (Cory, Don, the Don, shop manager, part-time massage therapist) On Tuesday, Cory gave me an in-your-face reminder that I work with a bunch of guys. It went like this:

A2 and I are standing in our waterproof Grunden's washing oysters. Some loud, snappy dance tune is playing. A2 turns the hose on me and sprays me with water in tune with the beat.

Don: Erin, one day, you're going to feel something like that on your leg and you're going to look over and it'll be me, urinating on you. Me: (doubled over laughing) Don, why would you do that to me? Don: What? It's not like it matters. They're waterproof.

Likes: Phish, Umphree's Magee, Boomtown, getting excited, cleanliness in the shop and everywhere else in his life, long walks on the beach, seals, being organized, extracurricular activities, "hate, hate, hate." Dislikes: Attitudes, tanning salons, church.

Here's to a spectacular day.

Magical pigs and oysters

I swear I won't make every post about the weather... but this is getting to be ridiculous. As Dave put it the other day: "Typically, it rains every weekend and we get nice weather when we're stuck indoors." Right. Well, the minute I start working outside, the opposite rings true. Sigh.

I will take a short break from our regularly scheduled oyster programming to talk about pigs. Dave and I were at Cochon 555 on Sunday night - it's a traveling cooking event where 5 chefs are each given one of 5 heritage breed pigs and cook with as many parts of the pig as they can; they're then judged by a panel as well as the public on what I consider the only criteria worth noting: the most mind-blowing taste experience of the night.

Dave and I were part of the public tasting/judging so we only got to try a handful of dishes from each chef (and watch this really intense pig butchering session from the sidelines) but the consensus on the floor and in the judge's room were pretty spot on: Matt Jennings from Farmstead restaurant in Providence won the prize. We had his stellar pork carnitas tacos which were nicely balanced with pickled onions. So good for a small bite. Another bonus was the VIP reception upstairs. We found a lot of our foodie friends up there who were judging (Tim & Nancy Cushman from O Ya, Ken Oringer, Barbara Lynch, Amy Traverso from Boston Magazine) plus the competitors (Jamie Bissonnette, Tony Maws who was toting around his kid Charlie, Joseph Margate of Clink, Matt Jennings of Farmstead, and Jason Bond of the Beacon Hill Hotel & Bistro) as well as a pork tasting where each heritage breed was lined up side by side so you could compare and contrast. This was the best takeaway: getting to taste the flavor profiles and differences between the Berkshire (familiar, nutty, creamy, firm), the Tamworth (leaner but still considered a good "bacon hog"), the Red Wattle (darker, tender meat), the Yorkshire (sweet and salty), and the Yorkshire-Duroc cross (good marbling, really rich). They were supplied by farms from around the country, including the Adams Family Farm in Athol. We also got info about the Endangered Hog Foundation; they're helping to preserve 9 endangered hog breeds and probably came up with Dave's favorite quote of the night: "We have to eat these pigs to save them."

As for the oysters, they're still going strong. Yesterday, I started to ask Skip about the origin of our oysters. He told me they come from two different broodstocks (the parents) and that they start as tiny eggs which are then fertilized and actually have the same qualities of fish at this point. They then go into a larval phase and through a metamorphoses that changes their whole digestive system and that's when they become oysters, officially. This is a really simple, dumbed down explanation for what I imagine is a much more scientific process that I'll have to study up on. The seeds are coming in a few weeks and once that happens, the farm will be a zoo. Looking forward to it ... but enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasts.

The Brown Frown

My fourth week on the farm was a rough one. Not sure why, exactly. Could have been the crappy weather, or it might have been our new friend the Brown Frown: seaweed. It gets bad this time of year and makes dragging really rough. Berg went out on Monday afternoon and had a hard time getting crates up since the drag just got filled with the stuff. We were pulling it out of the cull all week.

We did get out on the tide twice and had a killer day on Tuesday (meaning, we hand-picked more than 20 crates of oysters before the tide came up). But then Wednesday, A2 went home sick; Thursday was frigid plus I was exhausted and at one point tripped with a crate in my hands and landed face down in the crate. Not fun. I can add 8 more bruises and a sore neck to my list of injuries thanks to that one. Yesterday was better for morale but we still dealt with crappy weather. A trip to Tsang's (Duxbury's only Chinese restaurant where lunch portions are heaping and cheap) for lunch and a few cold Buds at the end of the day helped make up for it all.

I think Thursday was officially my worst day on the farm. Being comfortable and warm is by far my biggest challenge. If I can get warm, the day flies and we have a blast. But Thursday's weather was impossible to feel good in. It was that perfect New England combo of cold, rainy, windy spring weather that goes right through you. Paired with my exhaustion, it made for a miserable day. As Billy keeps saying, it'll get better. He swears.

On top of it all, I'm staring at oysters all day! Do you know how many oysters we look at daily? I might count one day. It's enough to drive any sane person bananas. I'm starting to go 'ster crazy... ba-dum-bump. Seriously, though, all we do is come up with ways to make each other laugh. We've got "I'm on a Boat" by the SNL guys on repeat throughout the week and A2 and I have been finding new ways to annoy each other. He's become like the little brother I never asked for. But in a good way.

Thursday night, I had dinner with Greg Reeves, the chef at Green Street Grill. We ate at Sportello (for my Improper column) and afterwards, went down to Drink for a cocktail. Greg, I found out, majored in environmental science and minored in oceanography at UNH so we had a really cool chat about the weather. He was teaching me a little bit about the wind and pressure systems and this really great discussion came down to how closely the weather is tied to our food. In fact, so many of my conversations these days come back to where our food comes from. From the potatoes that went into my gnocchi last night to the coffee beans we brewed this morning, every ingredient passes through the hands of a laborer at some point. Every ingredient has a Brown Frown. Everything is harvested, then sorted, cleaned up, processed, and neatly packaged to be sent out into the world. Hours upon hours, days upon days; it takes so much time and energy to get one simple ingredient from the farm to your table. It's more work than I ever imagined until I did it myself. And I'm dealing with a high-end product. Imagine trying to do this project with something as everyday as potatoes? I'm finally understanding how far removed I've been from the food that I eat. Just four weeks in and I've developed a whole new appreciation and fascination for how this country is fed.

But I'm still at the beginning and settling in. I'm sure the year will be full of discussions like these. And probably full of crappy days, too. One day in four weeks? All in all, that ain't so bad.

The Cull, part 2

Last night I was talking to my sister Shannon about the cull. As she put it: "You don't talk about actually harvesting oysters much." It's true, I haven't really gotten into the harvesting part. We were actually be out on the tide yesterday and will go back out today to hand pick oysters. The tide only gets low enough to do it every couple of weeks so on the days in between, Berg or Skip go out dragging. At the moment, that's not the point of my job. Instead, I told her about a game we play with each other and with Skip while we're culling. One of us will pick up an oyster from the TBC crate (tbc = to be culled) and ask, "What would you do with this one?"

Here's the thing about the cull: We're hand-inspecting every single oyster that comes out of the water. Each oyster is like a puzzle piece. It can go into three or four different piles depending on it's size or shape -- and there are as many different shapes for an oyster as there are snowflakes. No two are ever exactly alike. So we pick up every oyster and ask ourselves, "Where should I put this one?" Would it go into the 3's pile (our standard, perfect oyster), the Graybar pile (a rounder, deeper cup oyster named for a restaurant that originally asked for that style), the Per Se pile (also called the Porn Star, this is the oyster specifically ordered by Thomas Keller's Per Se restaurant), or the RTG pile (Return To Grant, or the oysters that need to repair themselves or get a little bigger)?

The answer changes with every oyster and I've gone from taking full minutes to answer that question to a split second. While it's a repetitive movement that might seem mundane, we're tasked with paying very close attention to details. It is the most important part of our job since it's the whole reason we are able to provide a consistent product to our restaurants. Each pile has to look roughly the same so that when a restaurant gets one of our bags, they can plate a complete dozen or half dozen orders that look alike. It's our quality control and it's the reason chefs love our product. It will probably be the topic of many posts so the more I come to understand it, the better I'll be able to describe it.

But there's also a lot of other things happening on the farm right now. The big news last week was a shipment of day boat scallops that came in off the Cape. We were trying these out to see what chefs think and I'm guessing the verdict is good. I went to Eastern Standard on Saturday night and chef Jeremy Sewell managed to save us the last two. He grilled them and soaked them in butter, then served them whole on the shell. While this made them tricky to eat (they didn't release from the shell) the final result was outstanding - really sweet, huge meaty chunks of scallops. I'm hoping they become a fixture for us. I'd never seen a live scallop out of the water and these babies were clackers. They were huge and could probably snap your finger off if you got too close. But they're gorgeous and hopefully you can find them around Boston and New York in the next few weeks.

We're also deep into preparations for the Island Creek Oyster Festival 2009. (Save the date: September 12.) Shore and I are working on a stellar lineup of chefs and the committee is in full swing. More on that as we get going.

Other big news that I'm super excited about: the farm is getting chickens. No, no... You won't be seeing Island Creek chickens on any menus. But Skip did order some chicks which should arrive in a few weeks so that, at the very least, the farm will have fresh eggs every day. Can't wait for those to get here. Another sure sign of spring, if you ask me.

Al...most... there...

Today made it clear that we are so, so close to summer. It was about mid 40s by the water and warm enough that by mid afternoon, the whole suits crew (plus Cory and Mark) was eating lunch on the patio at Snug Harbor Fish Co. (Granted, they were bundled up in scarves and blankets.) A2 and I joined them for a bite before heading back to the shop where there was way less wind and plenty of sunshine. We washed and bagged in the driveway - could have stayed out there all afternoon. We're getting closer. I can feel it.

I have to quickly show appreciation for my favorite comment so far. This one comes to us from A2's mom. A2: Call your mother!

I am the mother of A2 and am thoroughly enjoying your blog. What a wonderful opportunity you have been given! I know it's hard work, but it seems very rewarding. From what I've been told, everyone has a good time working at ICO. My grandfather used to farm cranberries in South Carver. I think I should try that out and do a "Bog Blog".

Would you please tell A2 to call his mother as he was supposed to two nights ago?! Also, remind him that he promised to send me some oysters.

I hope to meet you some day.

~ Katherine

Honestly, for any other moms reading out there, I work with the most respectful, disarming, and genuine guys a girl could ask for. They've been perfect gentlemen. So thanks!

The Cull

I've gotten a lot of questions about culling. Essentially, we're sorting the oysters but there's a lot more to it than that. At least, it feels like there's more to it since we spend 4 hours a day doing it while standing on our feet. We have a couple of tools, like the three-inch ring, a flathead screwdriver, and our gloves (which are thick and lined for the winter; in the summer we'll wear a lighter pair). Music fuels us, as does a mid-morning coffee break; we do what we can to break up the monotony of moving oysters from one place to another. As for the cull, we're looking for size, cup depth, healthy oysters (any that are nicked or broken go back to the water to repair themselves), and of course, funky stuff (ie: the two-minute time waster). When you tip over a crate of oysters, you'll get about 200 bivalves plus a dozen other odds and ends on the table. Stringy, brown, mud-caked seaweed, neon-green kelp, quahogs, scallops, hermit crabs of every shape and size (they've been turning up a lot lately), broken-off horseshoe crab tails and shells, live spider crabs (A2 hates those), an occasional piece of garbage, and even the lonely chicken bone. Yesterday we turned up a tiny flounder. Today, we found a heart-shaped oyster, my second since starting on the farm.

One of the perks of this job, as Skip reminded me yesterday, is that I get to take home as many oysters as I can eat. I brought home about a dozen and a half for Dave and I to snack on before dinner tonight. Besides a stellar, interactive appetizer, it gave me time to practice my shucking skills. Over our oysters, we chatted about my total lack of skills. Me: I think maybe I'll finish up the year and then go work as a shucker at an oyster bar. It could fulfill that "working in a restaurant" urge that's been nagging me for awhile. Dave: Yeah, well, you should probably see how this year goes first. I mean, of all the possible options you have ahead of you, working in an oyster bar has never really come up before. Me: Yeah. I guess I should learn to shuck oysters well first. Dave: Or you could just go back to being a writer... you know, like you always wanted to be. Me: (slurping back my 8th oyster) Riiiggghhhttt.

I'm starting to get the hang of shucking even though I cut myself once. We whipped up the Island Creek mignonette and put the puppies on ice. I was drinking a Harpoon Quad (courtesy of our pal Liz who smuggled a few bottles into Highland Kitchen for us when we met her and Adam for dinner there last week) and really liked the dark, Belgian-y style with our oysters. That heady maltiness really punctuated the the sweetness of Island Creeks. I strongly recommend it. And speaking of strong, the Quad is a killer at 12%. Consume sparingly.

One last note: I'd love some more tips on where to find Island Creeks (or any really truly spectacular and way-above-average oysters out there). I'm going to try and amp up the Eating. Oysters. section so if you've got them on your menu or want me to put an idea out to the world, please send them my way: murray.erinb at gmail.com.

Spring

Officially, we hit spring at 7:44 a.m. on Friday morning, but you wouldn't have known it in Vermont this weekend. I went up to Sugarbush with my college friends, Karen, Co & Meg and while we had a fantastic, 40-degree sunburner on the slopes yesterday, we woke up to two inches of fluffy white stuff this morning. Thankfully, it was clear and dry here in Boston when I got home today. The first day of spring on the farm meant 30-degree temps and a bright, clear day. When I got to the shop Friday morning, I met up with A2 and our new comrade, Claudio, and then grabbed a ride down to the water with Skip. Along the way, we chatted about how things were going so far (good but physically grueling) and started to get into his own personal connection to the seasons. He said a friend once told him that he was more in tune with the seasons than anyone else she'd known. And he agreed.

"A few days ago, when we were out on the tide, I thought to myself, 'I bet the sea worms will be out right now,' and sure enough we got out there and there they were," he said. "I guess I'm just used to the way these things work."

You can feel that connection all over the farm, actually. Everyone seems to be in tune with how fast or slow the thermometer's moving. Every time a grower pops by the float or backs their truck up to the shop to drop off bags, they talk about the weather. They tell me that March is the worst month because of the fluctuating temperatures. But then last week, Christian Horne tossed out the fact that April can be brutal and rainy. And every day, someone asks us when the float is going back into the water. While we'd love to be out there now, it's still just a little too early -- and cold -- to get it out there yet. Every conversation, all day long, goes back to the weather. It controls every part of what we do. And absolutely everyone stresses that it's only going to get better. Like Berg told me on my first day of work: "In the summertime, this is the best job in the world."

As for me, I've only ever watched the seasons change from the comfort of a desk chair. I'm used to watching buds appear out of nowhere in May and then get miffed when it all ends up on the ground come October. And while I've always been aware of when it's getting warmer or lighter, I've never felt more controlled by what the weather is doing than I am these days. From what layers I put on in the morning to whether or not we wash and bag indoors, it's all I think about during the day. And, much to my surprise, I'm perfectly happy with that. Since I'm guessing the only constant in my life will be the changing weather, I'd better get used to it. And appreciate days like last Wednesday, when I could actually shed a few layers and enjoy that extra little bit of sunlight.

I'm also guessing I'll get used to the new happy hour. No, not the one that took place at Frankie D's at 4 p.m. on Friday (though it was a stellar display of suits-boots camaraderie). I'm talking about the one that took place when I got home. After a hot shower, a glass of Kentucky bourbon and one single oyster, I was as relaxed as I think I'll ever be.

Two weeks down

Can't believe it's Friday already. This week flew. Wednesday was a perfect day: high 50s, sunny, windy. We finished up our bags yesterday and have a new guy joining our crew today. Berg is out of town so A2, Claudio, and I are on our own today.

The shot above is our shop (well, Cory's shop, really). It's the garage at Island Creek Headquarters and until we get our float in the water, it's where we're doing all of our processing (counting, washing, bagging). Those are the famous orange Grunden's and orange crates. Our bags are stacked up on the palettes, getting ready to go into the walk-in cooler. We harvested those Tuesday and they were probably in restaurants by Thursday morning.

Last night I met up with friends for dinner at Toro and it was my first experience eating our oysters since I've been on the farm. There's a strong chance that the ones we ate went through my hands at one point during the process (and they were fantastic: marinated, served on the half shell, then sprinkled with grains of paradise and a hit of Tabasco saffron emulsion - really bright and tasty). That's why this whole thing just keeps getting better.

The Seafood Show

The International Seafood Show was in town all weekend so Team ICO was in overdrive with buyers' meetings, working the show, and loading in and out. I went over twice - Sunday for a bit and Monday afternoon for the shucking competition. The place was a zoo; the convention center is as massive as an airplane hangar filled with seafood and industry purveyors and their crazy elaborate booths. One corner featured every possible seafood related processing tool (a vacuum for the sea! it'll even slice, dice, and shrink wrap!) while ICO was set up with its shucking boat in the shellfish area. I actually saw a motorcycle designed to look like a shrimp. And the crowd was totally unexpected. Lots of suits, some chefs, and a random smattering of super leggy women...though I'm still not sure where they fit into the picture.

Dave got to see some of the action and meet my crew on Sunday. It was also the day of Southie's St. Patty's Day parade which once again I managed to avoid (seven years in Boston and I still haven't been), so there were plenty of green beads and hats lying around. Monday was a little more entertaining; I worked on the farm in the a.m. and got to the show by 3. My pal Rowan Jacobsen was MC'ing the shucking contest -- I've never actually seen one of these before and apparently there's a pretty intense shucking circuit. The man to beat? A Wellfleet guy named Chopper. Yes, Chopper. He won the world competition last year (right?!) and as we walked up to the contest we actually caught him stretching.

There were 2 heats: east coast oysters, then west (two very different species, the west coast variety being more difficult in this case). The dozen or so shuckers (including one rock star woman from Virginia) picked out 12 east coast oysters to get started. They had to shuck and present them like they would in a raw bar so speed counted but so did tidiness. Before they started, I heard Chopper tell the woman sitting in the front row to watch out: she was sitting where his shells would fly, down and to the right.

I think the anticipation was more thrilling than the contest. I mean, these guys were quick but I kept waiting for someone to slice off a finger. Chopper shucked in one quick motion: slip the knife in, pop the shell off (and into the audience) slide it around the side, cut and flip the meat. Just like that.

Rowan spoke about the different methods (some go in from the side, others from the back) and called out the contestants' progress. Pat McCluskey represented Island Creek and held his own but Chopper eventually won both rounds full minutes before anyone else was finished. I didn't time it but I'd say he went through a dozen in less than three minutes. We didn't stick around for the awards' ceremony but I walked away with a new appreciation for their work. Back at the booth, Mark (Skip's previous farm manager) taught me how to shuck a few and I swear it took me ten minutes to get one open. (Sorry Uncle Jim. It's been a long time since our last Christmas lesson.) I jabbed myself a few times but after 3 or 4 oysters it started to get easier. Matthew suggested I start shucking a dozen every day when I'm done with work to practice. I may make my way onto the circuit yet. Better watch yer back, Chopper.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...

Monday and yesterday were a little less action packed but full of culling/counting/washing/bagging. A2 and I did the bagging while Berg went dragging yesterday. I've gathered that when the wind blows south, like it will today, the water gets too choppy to go out so Berg takes in as many oysters as he can when he goes out. Me, I'm happy to stay on land and cull and bag for now. Even after 8 hours of sleep, I was exhausted yesterday. Oh, that reminds me.

Current list of aches and pains: 2 sore wrists/forearms (I'm guessing early onset arthritis) 2 swollen hands 5 nicks on hands from shucking About a dozen bruises across my thighs (from hoisting the crates up) 1 tight back (but it's better than last week) 2 tight hamstrings (but those are from my Saturday run, which I was completely winded by unfortunately)

I'll continue to keep track since it'll probably get worse. I should also link my Twitter account to this blog somewhere. Lots of funny moments throughout the day. Yesterday, A2 and I were inspired to start a new band called The Cullers - we've got two songs that sound an awful lot like the Killers ("I've got shells but I'm not an oyster"; "Count like you mean it"). A2 is on vocals and harmonica; I'll be on tambo. We're still working on Berg.

Supposed to get up near 60 today. Looking forward to a sunny afternoon. If you're stuck indoors, just think of me and my guys, dressed like Oompa Loompas, hoses and crates in hand, belting out oldies at the top of our lungs.

Three days of culling and CWB; one more trip to the tide

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday we put in some solid work to get our bag numbers filled. As a team, the Andys & I get a specific bag count each week (each bag has 100 oysters) which we'll usually get done by Thursday.

Essentially, when we cull, we weed out any oysters that have chips in the shells or aren't fully grown. We also separate them by size and return any that are too small -- or too big. Though sometimes we keep the good jumbos and bag them, too (some restaurants prefer them big). To cull, we stand inside the Plex (ie: garage, house, float) at two long tables that are propped on orange crates so they're about rib level. We dump a crate out onto the table and just start sorting, tossing out any clunkers (open shells) and other junk and separating the good oysters into empty crates. Sometimes we get little crabs or hermit crabs in the mix; sometimes clam shells or barnacle covered rocks. Most of the crates we culled this week were dragged from the bottom so the oysters were covered in dirt which is why we wear orange rubber coveralls and thick, lined gloves.

After getting our bags done for the week on Thursday, we went out on the tide early yesterday morning to collect a bunch of netted bags from the lease (the leased area that Skip farms). These bags are about a quarter full of oysters that had been returned from a cull a few weeks back. They're put back so they can repair themselves from any nicks or dings on the shell (oysters can heal themselves in a few days when the temperature's right). It was frigid yesterday but once we got out on the mud, I was fine. Covered head to toe in waterproof gear (most of which is lined) and wearing those thick gloves, I could have sat out there all day. It was coming back in going into the wind that was brutal. And if you get even a drop of water into your gloves when it's that cold out, you're pretty much screwed (which I was at the end when I dunked my hand in the tide by accident - lesson learned).

So, a little about my crew. The two Andys (Berg and A2) are essentially my two pals for the day. Berg is the farm manager and keeps us in shape. A2 and Berg know each other from their days at the University of Rhode Island (I think they graduated last May. Needless to say, I am ancient in their eyes.) Because we spend a lot of the day standing, sorting, washing, bagging, the banter between these two can range from epic quoting sprees from the Office or some Seth Rogan movie to educational dialogues about how oysters retain carbon. It's fascinating, actually. And really fun. Yesterday, one went something like this. Berg: You're like a roaming water buffalo. Only, you just stand there. A2: No, you are. You're like a... a... Berg: What? A2: I don't know. I couldn't come up with anything. So, Berg. Tsang's for lunch? She wants to go. [They've started calling me She or Her] Me: I'm starving. Berg: Alright, I know you want to go to Tsang's. Let's get done with these bags first. A2: (under his breath) Yes.

And on and on we go. Probably not the greatest example of their work but it all sort of blends together into one comical day-long conversation.

We did make it to Tsang's for lunch and because I've been Twittering from the farm, I got my first taste of the Suits v. Boots controversy. The guys in the office: Suits. Us: Boots. I twittered something about hitting up Tsang's for lunch and immediately got messages from Matthew and Shore (Suits) wondering why they weren't invited. One week in and I'm already causing trouble! I had no explanation - but Berg did. It's a two-way street, guys. Invite us out for lunch now and then and we'll do the same. Ok?

I'm kidding, sort of. The Andys love to joke about it but at the end of the day, we went over to the office, called a truce and opened a couple Harpoons. Fitting way to end the week.

Out on the tide

Low tide was around 5:30 tonight so after a full day of culling and bagging (amongst other things), we went out on the tide to hand pick some oysters. This shot is from photog Dave Grossman who came out to chat while we were picking. By the time he got out there, the light was going and it was getting cloudy (rainy day coming up tomorrow) but he managed to get one in.

Quite a day for Skip's crew. Berg was out dragging most of the day while A2 and I culled and bagged. We were interrupted when Rob, director of the Maritime School, came by to tell us he was moving our float. This is the Oysterplex, a huge house that sits on a float. Usually it's in the water but it came out in November and will probably go back in some time in April. Today, they needed to move it about ten feet over to allow room for them to move their own floats out to the water. So A2 and I hung back and watched as this giant contraption picked up the float and, after getting stuck in the mud, moved it over. Apparently little things like this can totally disrupt the day.

Beautiful day for the most part. I think it reached the 50s for a bit. Nice to be outside when it's like that so I'm hoping we get lots more in our near future. Also got a chance to try a few oysters fresh out of the water with Skip. Really plump, briny, and delicious. I think I'm going to love this job.

Am hoping to have time to fill everyone in this weekend. For now, know that my back aches and I'm slightly sunburned... but happy as a clam.

Day One

Survived it! It was a little touch and go this morning - awful, awful weather. Probably the worst weather day we've had in months. Started off with sleeting rain and during my 45-minute drive down to the farm, it turned from ice to snow to whipping rain. Awesome first-day weather. Really. Just perfect. For a minute, I thought someone was trying to tell me something. But ... then I got to the farm. It was 8 a.m. (they have me on a totally reasonable schedule from 8-4), and I was bundled up in my hooded coat, jeans, long underwear and Hunter boots. Immediately, I parked in the wrong spot. Billy Bennett, Skip's dad and one of the growers, is God at the farm (so I was told by Andy... I mean Berg). Billy owns and runs everything. And the exact spot where I parked my car is where he backs his truck up to the side door of the shop. Thankfully Cory (Corydon, the shop manager/man-in-charge) showed me where it was safe to park and then brought me to the shop where I met the legendary Bill and quickly understood why everyone loves him. Huge smile, great handshake, soft, friendly eyes. Just like Skip.

My two colleagues, Berg and A2 (Andy & Andy) were in the shop as well. We caught up briefly and then I hopped in the truck with Berg. Thankfully, it was one of those days where you just. don't. go out on the water - really choppy, very high tide, and totally unpassable. Phew. Instead, we went into the Oysterplex (that sorting house I showed you before) and got to work.

Now, to be honest, it's taken me a few hours to relax and process everything (I've also had a few glasses wine - to warm up, ya know?) so I won't go into it all. But the basics involve this: we spent about 4 hours culling (sorting oysters by size, weight, etc) then we went over to the shop (it houses a table saw and we were tasked with cutting 68 24X24 inch plywood boards into 19x24 inch boards in order to make upwellers... which I'll explain later). A2 managed to keep all of his fingers intact and I didn't take anyone to the hospital (win, win). After that, we headed back to the shop (a barn next to ICO headquarters) and proceeded to CWB (count, wash, bag). Honestly, it's as simple as it sounds. We wash the oysters, count them out, and bag them.

I can explain in further detail tomorrow. For now, check out my semi-ragged boots. Fashionably mud-covered, right? The problem was, I couldn't feel my feet for most of the morning... and by mid afternoon, I lost feeling in my fingers. So... you know... those are things to work on. Oh, right: I also had to cut my fingernails (mud+long nails=disgusting mess).

The plus side? I had the best hot shower of my life tonight.

More tomorrow, I promise.