The last time I was in New Orleans, I ate as many oysters as I could get my hands on.

They say gulf oysters aren’t as delicious as the ones from New England, but you could sure fool me.

For some odd historical reason having to do with railroads and dry ice in the late-19th century, oysters are a Thanksgiving tradition in my Ohio-based family.

It’s a love it or hate it thing, but it used to be common practice to bake oysters into the Thanksgiving stuffing. Many of my Thanksgiving memories center around my grandmother preparing trays of stuffing and filling them with plump oysters half the size of my palm.

Thanks for sharing your traditions and memories. You made it come to life for me.