Report from the Nightward
Restaurant: Unnamed Oyster Cart
By Anna Okkes
Please do not think that this reporter didn’t do her homework. The cart literally says, in scribbled Cantonese: “Unnamed Oyster Cart.” the truth is, I hadn’t planned to eat there. For one thing, Unnamed Oyster Cart does not technically exist. For another, it was not my initial target for this week’s review.
I was at a loss, walking in the rain through the city’s Nightward. I received a faulty tip on the whereabouts of the infamous darling of the underground food world: the Yawning Naan.
There goes my lunch money for the week. Which reminds me: please like and subscribe… JK, it’s only a school newspaper.
So there I was, standing in front of a defunct Half-price Books, looking around for a restaurant that dosnt exist—at least not right here, not right now—when I smelled something delicious.
No, I hadn’t planned to pull up a stool at Unnamed Oyster Cart. But as it was getting close to morning, and the smell of fishy meat was making my mouth water…
Folks, I don’t know about you, but if my sixteen years of life on this planet have taught me anything, it’s that unplanned culinary detours are often the most rewarding and memorable.
The stainless bar top was illuminated in the purple haze of a blacklight zip-tied to the awning. Flecks of rain glowed on the cold metal. My server wore an eyepatch and directed a gleaming ladle at the menu board. There was only one thing listed. Words written in weeping chalk read : Chef’s Special.
I nodded and pulled out my wallet. Like many eateries in the Nightward, I had to pay up front.
My host slid me a plate with a single shucked oyster on it. The meat jiggled in fluorescent red juice. Below the surface I could see the pearly walls of the shell that contained the briny confection. It was a beautiful, mesmerizing presentation. It was not enough food, sad to say. But the flavor…
For the second it took to shoot the slippery meat, the flavor lasted quite a long time and developed moment by moment on the palate. Extremely briny at first, then earthy, with a surprising acidity. The middle notes were alarmingly sharp and fruity but then gently rounded into a soft sweetness; a pillowy, almost mealy sweetness.
Like much of the food in the Ward, it was like nothing I’d ever tasted. I was about to order another when I realized I didn’t have the funds. My soaked wallet was empty. I thanked the lone cart attendant and shuffled off the wet stool toward the bus station.
For readers of this blog, I want to encourage you to do your homework. Do the research and find what you seek. But when the goal isn’t attainable right now, don’t go hungry. Eat what you can get today. It may be better than you were expecting. It may just brighten up your tomorrow.
P.S. Still petitioning for chopsticks in the cafeteria.
Yours,
Anna Okkes
Field Notes:
Saw that limo again. No one came out, but it was the same license plate.
Before I left, the attendant handed me a card. It had a website printed on it:
www.thesanguinespoon.eat
Written on the other side was this handwritten message:
To find what you’re looking for.