Seafood was a significant part of the family diet, and there was little my father loved more than day-long ocean fishing trips. Weeks followed as my family tested my tolerance to types of seafood. Shrimp seemed to be OK. Cod, fluke, and flounder passed muster. No one even thought to try lobster or crab. Those were experiments I’d have to make on my own later.
As an adult, some of my “research” grew bolder. Friends in Boston took me out for seafood and drinks the night before I shipped out for the first time. The ship sailed directly into heavy weather, and I spent the midwatch worshipping the throne. I deny that I was seasick. It had been the clams.
Years passed. I developed a passion for Oysters Rockefeller. Perhaps the serving sizes were not large enough to tilt my body into reaction. Then came a physical exam in which I gave a complete medical history, and the story of the scallops came out. My doctor gave me that look: “you know, it’s only a matter of time before you have an anaphylactic reaction.”
Years passed. I religiously avoided anything with two shells that clapped together. My current physician urged me to go to an allergist for my seasonal allergies. During the evaluation, the story of the scallops came out. He rather thoroughly tested me—no allergy to bivalves. I was free to visit the Clambox in Ipswich; I could once again visit the Old Union Oyster House in Boston.
Are you sure? “The acid test is for you to bring your favorite meal and eat it here under controlled conditions.” The thought of eating Oysters Rockefeller in an exam room while he and his nurse waited to give me a shot or intubate was unappealing.
I’ll leave things as they are for now without visits to the Union or the Clambox.