A slightly belated post as we recover from the Thanksgiving holiday, a new job, a shady hack into one of my posts (that tagged it with some spammy tag), and a blog upgrade to WordPress 2.6!
I meant to post this right after Halloween, when pumpkins were abundant and I had a chance to save a pumpkin from being sacrificed to the whims of trick or treating tradition. Oops.
Google “pumpkin pie recipe” and the first one that pops up is a homegrown webpage with recipes that anyone can follow.
Many of you have noticed a slowdown in postings in the Fall. Where has GrubGirl gone? She’s been working at a company called DealBase.com, which helps people analyze the components of a hotel deal, so you can tell if it’s a real deal or not. Yes, the love of bargain food discoveries spills over into other areas, including travel deals.
I’m a fan of the Urban Dictionary, which breaks down urban slang for those of us too old to know first-hand what things like “shorty” or “hollaback” mean. Recently they’ve listed a few food-related terms that I found quite amusing:
econnoisseur: One who insists on the highest quality at the lowest price.
Now that’s the GrubGirl audience!
Another one:
salsa f***ed: This phenomenon occurs when dining at a Mexican restaurant with a large group and the salsa is not distributed evenly throughout the table. The areas of the table that do not have ample amounts of salsa are “salsa f***ed.”
The Sea Chest Oyster Bar
6216 Moonstone Beach Dr.
Cambria, CA 93428
805-927-4514
www.seachestrestaurant.com
What it is: Popular seafood restaurant among bed and breakfasts facing the coastline, specializing in oysters and clams.
The good: Huge portions, broad seafood menu, tasty broiled oyster options, beautiful views, friendly service. 
The bad: Cash only, no reservations.
I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about with The Sea Chest Restaurant and its oysters. Supposedly in the high season, lines form an hour in advance so people can get a good seat to partake in the seafood here. Fortunately, in the autumn, there wasn’t a line, and I was able to seat at the counter facing the kitchen. (In snootier cities, this is called the “chef’s table”.)
