Before skipping down Greenwich St. to a sushi dinner, we decided heck, a few oysters need to be thrown back. And at an outdoor venue of sorts. So Megan and I jetted into The Lobster Place in Chelsea Market to get a few Kumamotos and Malpeques shucked and placed on a bed of crushed ice with a lemon wedge for squeezing. Two cups of ice and a half bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and we were beyond set. Then we plopped ourselves outside, cheersed our oyster shells and giddily threw 'em back. Particularly briney with notable hints of cucumber and sea salt and the buzzing traffic around us completely dissipated.
I could get used to that. Start of a weekly ritual? Well, I certainly think so.