It’s the second Labor Day that we’ve motored up northeast to the Tomales Bay Oyster Company, and their bacchanalian picnic site overlooking the bivalve beds in the eponymous inlet separating Point Reyes and Bodega “The Birds” Bay from the Pacific Ocean.
We had a lot of civilized fun in 2011, so Kathy thought that it had great potential as annual tradition. Man, was she correct.
The joint is so rudimentary that it’s downright sophisticated: Picnic tables on various tiers, each table with its own anchored charcoal grill; bags of Tomales Bay oysters, clams and mussels available for purchase (cash only; ATM onsite, FYI); you bring your own charcoal, wine or beer, utensils, condiments, citrus, and then go to town. And if you happen to forget anything except the booze, you can purchase it there.
We didn’t BBQ last year, but Kathy had, as usual, the master plan. First, it turns out that arriving 60 minutes after post time last year, and grabbing a free picnic table was veritably serendipitous (I think I wrote last year about an anxious couple hovering near us, asking if we were about to leave; tables were scarce). This year, Das RosenKathmeister left nothing to chance, and she even threw a wrinkle into the mix: We were going to BBQ, and bring Das Chimney.
OK, first things first. Directions: We swapped Mapquest’s vertigo-inducing (again mit da Hitchcock? Oy!) twisty-treat road warring for TBOC’s own breadcrumbs. We got there well before seafood-selling opening time, found prime parking onsite, and snapped up a wonderful spot adjacent to last year’s lair. Kath and I saw a crazy lot of “Reserved” signs on tables everywhere we looked; seems like the Co. has cracked down hardcore on clans who come in and try to commandeer multiple tables, sometimes using that old cinema trick of placing a coat (in this case, a bag of groceries from Trader Joe’s) on to the next table. TBOC’s rules push back: I guess that there is a cat that one Yelp commentator (take that with a grain of Coarse Kechil) took issue with for questioning an extended family of eight staking out three tables, while hopefuls behind the imaginary velvet rope for a table have parked their vehicles aside Highway 1, hoping that their tires don’t touch the solid white line, lest they get ticketed.
Guys, it was outrageously nice at Tomales Bay. Beautiful, cloudless sky, and K had a stash of cash for seafood purchases, as well as a picnic checklist of provisions to pack into the Lisa Marie before embarking on our Labor Day waterside feast:
Lemons.
Oyster-shucking glove.
Cutting board.
Paper towels & cloth napkins.
Ice from our freezer. Knives for cutting & spreading.
Baguettes, cheese, garlic, diced tomatoes.
Multiple bottles of chilled Muscadet Sevre-et-Maine.
Oh, and that aforementioned charcoal chimney. Now, I was scared. It’s a device that I can not believe that everyone does not use for a charcoal fire. Two sheets of newspaper (Ah, maybe that’s the problem. Damn you, digital media!), to fire the coals and we had our picnic neighbors inquiring about the device.
In fact, we saw folks at tables below fanning alleged flames, and then adding more petrol. The grills at TBOC were perfect for us to do the flue, while Kathy prepared the clams in a pouch of wine, tomatoes, garlic and parsley over the coals. Ten minutes later, the packets elicited open clams bathing in some nice aromatics and jus.
We brought games, too. Kathy had 3 Yahtzees and still lost. We did the two-person “Sorry!” game wherein each player controls two “Home” colors; I won that. This never happens; she usually whips my butt!
You guys, I was so afraid that my little newspaper in the chimney would offend these folks with petroleum starter. No worries. The burnt paper smoke dissipated faster than lighter fluid stench. And as mentioned above, the resulting gourmet meal “en aluminum” was delicious and attractive. In fact one passing TBOC staffer remarked, “Oh, that looks good!”
Life was good. Can’t wait for Labor Day 2013.
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