This isn’t what you’re thinking if you’re sounding it out and getting “Appalachian” oysters and then thinking “Rocky Mountain oysters,” which are parts of a bull’s anatomy that supposedly taste like rubber bands and must be the definitional acquired taste. . . . Appellation oysters are shellfish from a single reef or other watery landmark. They may be bigger than common commercial oysters; that way they’ve steeped in their home water for longer. It’s like wines from a single vineyard or peaches from a single orchard. Anyway, Galveston Bay has appellation oysters. The newspaper’s food critic recently raved about them, calling Ladies Pass oysters delicate and creamy with a beautiful crisp salinity and a sweet finish; Elm Grove oysters balanced between salt and sweet with a big mineral tang on a long finish; and the Whitehead Reef oyster one that goes from a salty blast to rich creaminess to a gently salty finish. Sounds wonderful, but alas, all of this goodness is lost on me. I like oysters cooked. Either fried with a light cornmeal batter, or if at an oyster roast, I’ll take the ones that have languished on the hot steel long enough to start turning to rubber, thank you very much.