Wednesday Snapshot: A Memorable Meal, Ceviche de Ostra

Nothing makes a meal more memorable than spending it wondering if each bite will be your last. Is this the sweet salty kiss of death? Carter and I had watched the oyster ceviche cart cruise up and down the beach in Canoa, Ecuador for two days wondering if sucking down unrefrigerated raw oysters in the hot sun was a good idea. After we observed several repeat customers and next-day survivors of the delica-sea, we decided a two day trip to the nearest passable medical facility was worth the risk. Some compare eating raw oysters to a game of Russian roulette; I compare it to sex.

Ceviche de ostra as we experienced them were booty-licious. The oyster shells were the size of a woman’s hand. Javier used a hammer to bust them open, then he cut the oyster into small pieces, never removing the creature from its shell, squeezed the juice from half a lime, added a small spoonful of diced tomatoes and red onion, a bit of jalapeno, then a sprinkling of dried and fried corn kernels. Using the shell as a bowl, he mixed it up and handed it over to two scared, salivating gringos. Briny, limey, crunchy, slimy, raw and dangerous-- we were hooked.