Top This If You Can.

Now I was thinking last night's meal with the pillows of sweet-potatoey perfection was the absolute Bee's Knees. However, tonight, I introduce you to the Cat's Meow. OYSTERS! And GREENS!!!!!

One of the bestest things about Fall is that oysters are back in season. And I loves me some oysters. Mr. Hawthorne and I bought a bushel of oysters the other day. I am a happy woman.

First, I melted some butter.

Then I found the leftover browned butter that I'd poured into the sage cream sauce from last night.

Next, I combined grated Parmesan cheese, some paprika, some Hungarian Hot Paprika, and a little bit of sugar.

Here's the butter at left, the paprika/sugar/parmesan mixture in the middle, and the browned butter/sage cream sauce on the right.

Oysters go on the grill. Smells like fall. Fall smells like this. Smoky. Oystery. Paprikary. Browned buttery.

I poured a little melted butter and the sage cream sauce on the oysters. I am rewarded with flareups.

I love this picture. Again, my signature action shot. It is poetry in motion, with a bit of musicality thrown in. Not to mention the exquisite flavors of oyster, butter, and smoke.

After a few minutes of cooking with the butter, I added the parmesan/paprika/sugar mixture.

Doesn't get much better than this.

Savor the close ups.

For a side dish, Mr. Hawthorne had been cooking down greens for a couple of hours. Kale, turnip greens, and mustard greens. Added in some country ham for flavor. Then some potatoes for potato's sake.

Greens aren't for everybody ... or so they think. Greens are fantastic. Strong flavored. Almost bitter. But that can be cut with the potatoes and buttah. Just deep green fabulosity with some porkalicious salty goodness added in via the ham plus the lovely, starchy tameness of the potatoes pulling it all together. Hee. I remember when I didn't eat a lot of types of foods, (Hey, I was 8.) (OK, maybe 18 too.) and Mama would cook collard greens. I'd walk into the house and my nasal pasages would immediately be assaulted by the pungent, shall I say, "Outhouse," odor of the collards. Daddy would pour some vinegar over top the collard greens and Mama would be all ragass on him because she hated the vinegar smell. Go figger. Oh, Mama Hawthorne, if you would like to comment on this, since my memory might not be exactly spot on, please feel free to do so.

Greens 'n ersters.

Ersters 'n greens. Freakin' delicious.