The Chinese calendar may proclaim what’s just ahead as the Year of the Ox, but for me, it’s beginning to be the Year of the Oyster. I’ve been a fan of succulent bivalves – both oysters and clams — since I was a small boy, barely able to reach the raw bar counter at Lundy’s famous seafood restaurant in Sheepshead Bay. In those days, fishing boats would return from the Atlantic Ocean and dock just across the street from the terminus of the Ocean Avenue trolley car.
Toward the other end of the line, clattering along Rogers Avenue in the Crown Heights neighborhood, it stopped a block from our house, delivering a rattling ride even before Judy Garland commemorated that form of transportation in "Meet Me in St. Louis." The fare was a nickel, as was each freshly opened shellfish.
Since then, I’ve eaten raw clams and oysters near their homes on several continents, the small, briny Belons on the shores of the Bay of Biscay, tart Whitbys from the Irish Sea, European Flats from Amsterdam, Blue Points from Long Island Sound, Olympias from Seattle, Chincoteagues from Chesapeake Bay, Apalachicolas from the Florida river of the same name, many others from all the oceans and gulfs of the Earth.
Other oysters have migrated from here to there, or in the case of a St. Louis diner, from there to there. Kumamotos and Pacifics, for example, came from Japan to the U. S., and the former even shows up at St. Louis seafood restaurants on occasion. European Flats made the trip from Holland to this country shortly after World War II and Eastern/Virginica, an East Coast native, migrated westward in the 19th century. We’re not big on the Gulf oysters from the New Orleans area. They tend to be mushier and lack brininess. Our general rule is that the colder the water, the better the oyster.
Clams, mussels, scallops and other shellfish have wandered the world, their shells often used as coinage, their meat eaten raw or cooked in dozens of different styles.
Anyway, in search of an event to keep us occupied and happy on New Year’s Eve, an eve we usually spend at home, I found a link to Taylor Shellfish Farms, a West Coast shellfish supplier who offered what I thought would be a good surprise on the home front – a package containing four dozen oysters, 12 each of four types, two oyster knives and instructions on how to go about shucking them without sacrificing fingers. Delivery on New Year’s Eve day was guaranteed and since there already was Champagne in the refrigerator, I was halfway home. Of course, I had not shucked an oyster in about 20 years, on a night when I had only a screwdriver as an appliance. For some peculiar reason, alcohol obviously fueled my coordination because I opened a couple of dozen without physical harm.
They arrived on time and my skills were so impressive that before I was half finished, I had gained a co-shucker. The bubbly, and an oven mitt, kept our fingers in good shape, and the fact that the mitt did not survive was a fair tradeoff.
All four dozen of the oysters — two large, two small – were outstanding. They arrived chilled, peaceful, obviously happy (leaning to read oyster shells is a fine hobby for retirement). Kumamotos and Olympias are small, some of the latter not much larger than a half-dollar. They are sweet, with a slightly metallic aftertaste; Kumamotos are slightly larger, with a deep cup, slightly nutty flavor on the tongue. Eastern/Virginicas are larger and very briny, with a color that ranges from cream to brown and a noticeable mineral finish, while the Pacific oysters have a shell about three inches long that ranges in color from white to greyish-brown, with white-to-brown flesh. The flavor is clean and mostly sweet with briny overtones.
We’re not much for red oyster sauce, though we’ll taste it from time to time, and the vinegar-shallot sauce strikes us similarly. I like them with a good squirt of lemon and a drop or two of Tabasco; Ann eats ‘em straight.
We thought we were finished with oysters for a while, and then we went to the Florida panhandle, sometimes rudely dubbed "the Redneck Riviera." The first platter of oysters I tried was unimpressive, and I was not seduced by oysters topped with cheese and slices of jalapeno pepper, then baked briefly. I like oysters Rockefeller (and clams Casino) but too often, the bivalve is ruined by the addition of cheese, whose flavor tromps all over the natural taste of the shellfish.
But Apalachicola oysters were in high season, and they were terrific, big and briny and with bright mineral overtones. Hunt’s Oyster Bar in Panama City was dealing them out by the hundreds, and at a price of $4.75 a dozen, we ate iced-up oysters and drank icy beer right from the bottle until the world looked level and we were satiated, one of the rare times in our lives to eat oysters until we simply couldn’t eat any more – until the next time.
–Joe
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Yes, we too ordered Taylor oysters on New Year’s Eve. “And this was very strange, because we had eaten every one” of the 42 dozen! First, raw, then deep-fried, and finally oyster stew. Yum.
down in Florida for the cold months a friend picked up at 2 bushels of Apalachicola oysters for $ 32.00/ bushell. It contained 12 dozen. I ate as much as I could. They were some of the best oysters
Ooh, thanks for Taylor link; I can hardly wait to surprise my better half with a Valentine’s Day treat!
As one food blogger, let me advice you all not to eat too many sea foods at a time, especially the raw ones. It could harm your digestion.