The Crescent Moon is fat and creamy, the Zoe dainty and subtle, the Estival deep-shelled with a complex tang, says the waiter at Olympia Oyster House in Washington state’s capital city, Olympia.

We’ll take four of each, my sister Jennifer and I respond simultaneously. A sign on the restaurant wall tells us that the oysters we’re about to eat “slept last night in Oyster Bay”, two coves over.