From the blog series: From the Bay — Stories Behind the Shell
There’s something special about being out on a boat, oyster knife in hand, salt in the air — it invigorates my soul. When Texas Clear Water Oysters and The Scarlet Lady hosted our first-ever oyster farm tour, I felt a version of myself I’ve been chasing — not a perfect one, but a real one. Confident, connected, and completely present. It reminded me why we started this whole oyster business, and why the work matters beyond the shell.
From the moment we stepped onto The Scarlet Lady and began working with her incredible crew, something clicked — a quiet sense of purpose. I felt proud to share the fruits of our labor: oysters we raised with care, finally ready for people to taste. I was grateful that fifty people took time out of their lives to come see what we’re building. And I was deeply moved to watch Salty Bill, my husband, connect with others about the thing he loves most — oysters.
This farm was Bill’s vision from the start. I was the reluctant accomplice. I went to the conferences, walked the tours, wrote the business plan, and got my hands dirty raising our oyster babies. But for a long time, I was doing it for him — supporting the adventure, not leading it with my whole heart.
But like the oysters we raise, my belief in this farm grew slowly, quietly — layered over time, shaped by the waters we’ve navigated and by the people who’ve bravely hopped on board. That day on the tour, something shifted. I wasn’t just along for the ride anymore. I was standing in the middle of my own sweet story.
I had a moment, right there at the shucking bar, where I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be — connecting with people who share a love for our island home and a curiosity about where their food comes from. I chatted with a neighbor about how it all began. I gave a shucking lesson to a new friend. I spoke with a businessman full of ideas for growing our vision. And one woman, after trying my signature mignonette sauce, looked me in the eye and said, “You need to bottle this.”
After the oysters were served, I made my way to the bow of the boat, where Salty Bill was in his element — smiling, storytelling, lit up by what he loves. The entire group gathered for a photo, and I realized I was in my element too. I had connected with people over these little creatures who do so much good for our environment. And I had connected with individuals who brought their own passions, curiosity, and joy into our story.
I was no longer just helping. I was invested. Bill has always been the “salty” one — briny, bold, unmistakably himself. I’ve been called “sweet” my whole life, and maybe it’s true — I soften things, I smooth the edges, I bring the finish. But just like our oysters, the best of us happens when the salty and the sweet come together.
That day, I found my own flavor of confidence — not loud or polished, but something deeper. A kind of sweet confidence: a lot like laughter, stories shared over a shucked oyster, and the quiet pride of doing work that feeds something bigger.
