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In San Francisco, Oysters are like $3 each if you don’t go for a happy hour somewhere. So in city dollars, these oysters are the equivalent of a down payment on a house.

But we are thrifty and cunning, so we drove to Tomales Bay where they manufacture the oysters in a wonderous oyster plant (Oompa Loompas everywhere!) and bought them at the source.

Jessie and Brad grew up in the Pacific Northwest, and were a little perplexed when I said I wanted to learn to shuck oysters. 

Apparently in Washington they just give shucking knives to four year olds and wish them the best.

They helped me figure out how to work my knife into the shell and twist. It was stupid easy. Or it’s possible I am a genius.

Then they taught Patrick, who is Canadian, so we all expected him to be a little slower on the uptake.

But no! He shucked the crap out of those oysters! So now he can apply for citizenship to a real country. We’re all very happy for him.

I’m kidding you guys. Maple leaves! Mounties! Kids in the Hall!

Anyway, we kept shucking, and shucking. And the following night, Brad shucked 50 oysters we brought home. We probably bought too many oysters.

But! I learned a new thing. And now I can survive in the wild with only my wits.

And a shucking knife. And a glove. And a wetsuit.

So I’m a regular Bear Grylls.