The Oyster Society, Marco Island, Florida

Sing, O Goddess, the wrath of the Dolphin Tiki that brought countless ills upon Scott Griffin. Homer

Our Guy Spa Day wreaked wroth upon the participants, and great was the carnage. It left Scott, who had ordered fries rather than beans and rice and eaten perhaps more of the delicious onion strings than necessary, hors de combat when time came to have dinner (on Scott and Nora) at the Oyster Society. Meanwhile, Nancy and Nora, who had enjoyed a Ladies’ Spa Day, were tanned, rested, and ready.

This was a tragedy, for Scott anyway. First, the Oyster Society is an outstanding restaurant, and I, despite the fact that I come from hardy pioneer stock (I’m a direct descendant of Daniel Boone, who provides 1/1024th of my genetic makeup), and I am inured to excess, (having cauterized or otherwise beaten my internal organs into submission), I wasn’t exactly hitting on all cylinders, either.

The Oyster Society specializes, of course, in seafood. And it’s a very nice place, the sort of place in which I take few if any photographs, and where I get foggy about details, especially after a Guy Spa Day.

I do know that we all had seafood, and that someone had the pistachio crusted chilean sea bass over a bean and shrimp ragout.

Someone else had potato encrusted grouper with roasted potatoes and haricot vertes (expensive green beans and worth it),

and someone had the snapper in a beurre monte sauce.

I may have had the grouper, because I made a note that it was “perfectly done. Delish. Very thick not cooked a second too long.” But that’s just a guess. I also noted of the dishes more generally that “All of the preparations great.  Complex ingredients but well blended.” That means the seafood was uber-fresh and the preparations thoughtful and exceptionally well executed, and well worth the extra tariff you pay at the Oyster Society.  Certainly worth the tariff that Scott and Nora paid.

As good as the food was, the real star was the wine. Scott had brought down a bottle of Bionic Frog.

The quirkily named Bionic Frog is a product of Cayuse Vineyards. It’s a Syrah from Walla Walla that regularly gets ratings from 95-100. When I tasted it, I tried to grab Nancy’s glass from her hand. We’d taken a trip to Napa one year and it raised her expectations about wine quality to a dangerous level. A taste of this wine could break us.

The Bionic Frog was — I state this without equivocation — the best wine I have ever tasted. Nancy volunteered that it had a smoky taste, which is right up my alley, and one reviewer listed “bacon” among the myriad flavors. But that trivializes the wine. I won’t try to describe the flavor. I lack Anacreon’s lyre. But if during the course of your life you ever get a chance to taste some Bionic Frog, seize the opportunity.

I recommend the Oyster Society. It is fine dining indeed, even without a rock star wine. The seafood is fresh, and as indicated, thoughtfully conceived and beautifully prepared. Go. Enjoy.


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