Anyone who knows me knows that I love oysters more than just about anything consumable in the world. Put me on a deserted island with oysters and champagne and I’ll be as happy as a clam. In fact, just give me the champagne—I could probably hunt down some good shells out there myself! So when my good friend Mike texted to see if I was interested in trekking out to Connecticut for the Milford Oyster Festival, you can imagine I accepted his invitation with no hesitation. A good southern belle never turns down an opportunity for some fresh shellfish. I was sold.
This particular area of Connecticut was foreign to me. Catching up on some reading outside the train station, I had many questions. What would this little town have to offer, not so far from the concrete jungle of Manhattan?
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