Oysters, with love
Thoughts while pregnant and puking
Scientists say that humans puke less than one time per year, on average1. I have a feeling this is one of those studies that didn’t involve women; certainly not pregnant ones. Because most pregnant women have exceeded that number by a fair share — I certainly have. The morning sickness in the beginning is one thing, the acid reflux and a literal human pressing against your stomach is another. And it always comes out of absolute nowhere. There is no nausea, just the sudden reflex to revisit (and later rethink) my last meal.
Puking on a regular basis makes you realize many things. One is that you don’t clean your toilet bowl as thoroughly as you think you do. Another is, as it often happens when stuck in a place you really don’t want to be in, you start to reminisce about your life before this very moment and you start wondering how the hell you got here.
My story involves oysters.
And I had my first oyster.
Now, this was a truly significant event. I remember it like I remember losing my virginity — and in many ways, more fondly.
[…]
It tasted of seawater … of brine and flesh … and somehow … of the future.
Anthony Bourdain - Kitchen Confidential
Before my time as a professional toilet bowl inspector, I hadn’t puked in years — 2.5 years to be exact. It happened in New York, on our honeymoon. It was my third and my husband’s first time in the US. He always wanted to visit, I always wanted to go again. We behaved like the tourists we were and went on many small adventures: Like accidentally buying the most expensive Christmas ornament (we looked at the wrong price and were too embarrassed to say something when we had to pay … it was 55$). We also went on a hunt to find ‘the best bagel’, which in our humble, non-local opinion is from La Bagel Delight at Dumbo. After discovering this place on day two we went back every morning to order the same thing: Two everything bagels with fried eggs and cheese, one coffee for me, and a water for my non-coffee drinking spouse (seriously, I married a guy who doesn’t drink coffee, that’s true love). From La Bagel Delight we made the short trip to Dumbo, to the Main Street Park and sat by the water to enjoy our breakfast with a stellar view of the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridge. All the days could’ve been exactly like this. But as it often happens: the universe had a different plan.
On day three we treated ourselves to something special and went to a Yankees game (my husband’s dream, I didn’t have an opinion back then, but I certainly would have one now). It was a special treat because it just so happened to fall on September 11 — our meetaversary.
I know … an unfortunate date. But who knew that the random Tinder date would lead to anything? Let alone marriage and now a kid? As unfortunate as this date may be, it is definitely one we both never forget. Days leading up to it the reminders of the day are in every newspaper across the globe, which in turn reminds us to reserve a table someplace nice. We have never once forgotton the date we met; we have, however, forgotten our wedding anniversary once (out of the three we had so far).
Back to the Yankees game: We ate hot dogs (not as great as I thought they would be, Danish hot dogs reign superior in my opinion)2, googled the rules while watching, and had trouble understanding why rain interrupts a sports game (it apparently has something to do with the clay on the ground and it causing injuries when wet?!). Anyhow, we had a great time and had reserved a table someplace nice for dinner afterwards, to celebrate three years together. We went to 1803 NYC, a Cajun restaurant in Tribeca.
You see, the ultra original plan was to visit more cities in the US than just New York. I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans, so we tried to find a somewhat budget friendly solution to go to New York and New Orleans, and potentially another city after that. Turns out there is nothing budget friendly about that and we only ever made it to New York and back home again. C’est la vie. But when I found this Cajun restaurant, I thought it is as close to New Orleans as I will probably ever get, and the reviews sounded good too, so we went.
Having read extensively about New Orleans and its cuisine, my expectation were high. Not only when it comes to the taste of the food but the atmosphere as well. The atmosphere was ok, a little too bright and airy for my liking — and I certainly was expecting more Jazz (there was none). We looked through the menu and decided to order a little bit of everything. I spotted the buttermilk fried oysters first. My husband and I live close to Hamburg and are surrounded by great seafood all the time. There is literally nothing we aren’t willing to try and we both hadn’t tried oysters yet. So, buttermilk fried oysters it was. Again, I was expecting flavor. And spices! I am still looking for those 2.5 years later — the oysters were bland and boring, the rest of the food was, unfortunately, the same.
But despite the bland food we had a great day. One that started with ‘the best bagel’ and ended with a short trip to inauthentic New Orleans. After dinner, we walked a few blocks while debating whether or not we wanted to walk all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge to see it during the night. But our stomachs were too full to handle such a walk, so we decided to take the subway straight back to our hotel in Brooklyn.
Good food and good eating are about risk. Every once in a while an oyster, for instance, will make you sick to your stomach. Does this mean you should stop eating oysters? No Way.
Anthony Bourdain - Kitchen Confidential
I felt fine in the elevator, rushing through ten stories of concrete and steel. I felt fine while watching TV and talking about our day. I felt fine … until I didn’t. My stomach decided to make its presence known with one of the weirdest gurgling and howling noises imaginable — which got me a concerned eyebrow from my husband. I took several deep breaths, trying to get my stomach under control while listening to the New York City soundscape filled with traffic noise, sirens, and fire engines. What happened next, happened fast.
The last time I had to sprint from bed to bathroom was back in my University partying days. Now here I was, without a drop of alcohol in me, doing a bowl inspection — USA style. Lucky for me the sprint from bed to bowl was short. Two meters to be exact, with only a thin glass door separating the ‘bedroom’ from the ‘bathroom’, which I didn’t have time to close in time. While I thoroughly revisited our dinner, my husband supported me through it. With a soothing voice he told me that everything was going to be ok, that I should just breathe through my nose and that it will soon be over — wait, is this what giving birth will be like?!
With the bowl inspection done, I cleaned my face and drank some water. Feeling slightly better but not great. The only thing I could think of in that moment was that I need to lie down. Standing upright made me feel all kinds of weird, so I slowly walked back to bed — no sprint this time. My husband has one of those magical talents that he can fall asleep within seconds, almost everywhere. So while he got his beauty sleep, I tried to get my upset stomach under control by taking some deep breaths. Nothing worked, because I revisted the infamous buttermilk fried oysters a few more times that night.
Sleep came and went, and the morning arrived somehow too early and somehow not early enough. It is never a good sign when the first thing you think about in the morning is: “Did I pack Immodium?” Turns out, I hadn’t packed it. The local CVS was right around the corner and our first stop that morning. Together with some crackers and a Diet Coke I put all my faith in the two tiny tablets that morning. I was not going to let some bad oysters ruin my trip to New York.
Lucky for me, it didn’t. After that day my stomach was back to normal and I didn’t do another bowl inspection until 2.5 years later, when I revisited not an oyster, but a bagel. The ‘same’ bagel, to be exact.
You see, the bagel from La Bagel Delight made such an impression on me that I now recreate it all the way over here in Germany (the recipe is at the bottom of this newsletter).
So, here I am, thinking about oysters while kneeling in front of the bowl revisiting ‘the best bagel 2.0’ I had for lunch. All because that random Tinder date on September 11 turned into the biggest love story of all time, leading me to not only find the best bagel in New York, but to also spend September 11 three years later at a Cajun restaurant in New York, eating oysters that put me in the exact same position I am in now.
It really is the small and random things that make life so beautiful — and wild.
And it gets wilder.
While I was revisiting the bagel, my husband — who’s currently on a work trip in Sri Lanka — decided to get the oysters for dinner. He caught a bad one and had his own bowl inspection, Sri Lankan style. So here we are, expecting our first child together, both in similar positions, in different countries, both events tied together by oysters and the Immodium that I bought at CVS all this time ago in New York.
XOXO
Annika
‘The best bagel 2.0’
Toasted bagel (plain, sesame, or if you can get your hands on it an everything bagel)
spread mayo and spicy mustard on it
1 fried egg, seasoned with salt and pepper and everything seasoning (if you are using an everything bagel this is obviously not needed)
2 cheese slices (one on the bagel, one on the fried egg to melt a little)
put it all on the bagel and done
A nationwide telephone survey conducted by the Robert Koch Institute between 2008 and 2009 estimated an average of 0.95 episodes of AGI (Acute gastrointestinal illness) per person per year among adults.
We went to Coney Island a few days later and ate hot dogs from Nathan’s Famous. I stand by my original opinion that Danish hot dogs reign superior.