Behold, the Oyster
Oysters are resilient creatures; will their wranglers survive pandemic? Plus, the taste of summer in New England, and how to shuck the briny bivalves without getting battle scars.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach.”
The oyster: how the poets and sages of time have loved thee. And what’s not to love? Oysters cropped up sometime during the Triassic period, an unassuming blob in a utilitarian shell that can change sex from male to female and back again. Not many of us can claim those feats. Plus, they’re hardy little buggers: They’ve survived hungry talons, maws and hands, overfishing, and pollution. But the question remains…can they survive pandemic?
The short answer is yes; they can wiggle a little deeper into their beds and hunker down. But their farmers, not so much. (For the longer, more legit answer, check out my article and audio version here).
90 percent of oysters are eaten in restaurants. For some farmers, like Jules Opton-Himmel of Walrus and Carpenter based out of Rhode Island, 98 percent of what he grows is sold to restaurants.
Restaurants close due to godforsaken pandemic and, badda-bing, there goes the oyster farmer’s main market.
Enter the person who could keep them afloat, even just for a little while: the hero, the savior, the unwitting consumer.
Yes, you, dear reader can lend a helping hand— and shucking knife. Many oyster farmers are turning to direct-to-consumer sales of their little bivalve friends, and many at a discounted price.
Intimidated? You needn’t be.
All you need is a kitchen towel, a proper shucking knife, some confidence (a glass of bubbly wouldn’t hurt either), and your favorite condiments at the ready.
How to Shuck an Oyster
When I worked in restaurants, an order of oysters was an immediate killjoy. Not knowing the first thing about shucking, I would fiddle and fumble until the oyster eventually gave up, I stabbed myself, or worse, took a chunk out of the hinge so the oyster threatened to slide out the hole. Part of it was inexperience and the stress of being in the weeds, part of it was a dull oyster knife. Once you’ve got a sharp blade, things start looking up. Here’s a blow by blow on how to get shuckin’:
Wrap a kitchen towel around the wide edge of the oyster, leaving the hinge-side exposed. Using your hand, push down firmly on the towel-covered side, using some of the towel to cover your hand. This will help prevent any accidental stabbings!
Pry the shucking knife into the hinge, all while pushing down on the towel-end side with your other hand. This gives you leverage to pry the shell open. When you feel the tip of the knife is firmly wedged into the hinge, start to wiggle it slowly from side to side to drive the blade in deeper. Go slow!
Once you feel like the blade is really in there, start to turn it gently up and down as you keep pushing the blade inward. You should be able to pop the shell off at this point.
Once you’ve felt the shell pop open, push down on your knife to create leverage and fully pop the top off. Wipe your blade on the towel, as by this point it will have gotten some grit on it.
Turn your knife so the blade is horizontal, then slide it through the seam where the top of the shell meets the bottom to remove the top. Take off the top shell.
Wipe your blade again, then use it to separate the oyster from its shell. It’s a sad thing when you go to slurp one down and it doesn’t move! Be careful here, since you want to keep the briny liquor in the shell; it’s part of what makes eating an oyster great.
Top with your favorite condiment (like the simple mignonette or beach rose oil recipes you’ll find below, a squeeze of lemon, cocktail sauce, or go naked for the pure flavor of the sea) and slurp it down.
Simple Mignonette
Mignonette is a simple dressing for an oyster and consists of red wine vinegar (I use sherry vinegar for a nutty flavor), minced shallot, and a pinch of salt and pepper.
1 shallot, finely minced
1/4 cup good sherry or red wine vinegar
pinch of salt
pinch of pepper
Mix together in a bowl and serve with shucked oysters.
A Taste of Summer in New England
As a kid, I would be sorely tempted to pick the plump berries on the prickly beach rose bushes near the beach. Oftentimes I would succumb to my desires, plucking bunches of the knobby fruits and stuffing them in my pockets along with shells, rocks, and seaglass. I wanted to make jam with them, though I never picked enough and would find them months later shriveled and dry. It wasn’t until I started working in restaurants that I learned that its the beach rose petals that are worth getting your hands on: they have a sweet floral smell that, paired with the whiff of salt from the sea, is the smell of summer in New England. At one restaurant, we would distill this into a lovely dish: oysters on the half shell with beach rose oil. One bite, and I was transported to long walks on the beach, the wind-beaten beach rose bushes tossing their petals into the wind. This is special.
1 cup cleaned and sorted beach rose petals, packed
1 cup neutral oil, like sunflower oil
cheesecloth
fine mesh strainer
mason jar
Blend beach rose petals and oil together in a food processor or blender. You want them pretty finely blended.
Place a cheesecloth over a strainer set on a mason jar, and pour in the beach rose petal oil mixture. cover and press gently. Place in the fridge and let drip for a few hours, pressing as needed. You want to make sure that no bits of rose petal get through the mesh, or the oil will go bad faster.
Serve 1/4 teaspoon on a freshly shucked oyster. Heaven.
Have you ever found a pearl?