Oyster Stew
Oysters Rockefeller
(Capt. Tattoo) Rising on a crisp fall morning in the low county the view outside the porthole is a blooming Camelia curled-up by the dock awaiting the early sun. The marsh grass has turned brown and the fragrance of the roasting fire is in the air. You know what that means? Yes sir captain, that means it’s shuckin’ time.
This morning the boys have thrown a grate on the rim of an old drum. They’ve got the fire going. Soon there will be hot coals and a dozen or so fresh oysters on the grate. This evening we’ll have an intimate gathering of a couple hundred of your closest friends. From a monster gathering for charity to your stove top or oven, or on the creek over an open fire, there is just something about shuckin and laughing over a table of these steaming bivalve mollusks that brings people together like few things can.
Oysters have been a staple of sea-side living about as long as folks have been living on the sea shore, just about forever. All along the U.S coastline, from New England to Texas and up to Puget Sound, we just love those salty little bivalves. On the South-east coast, fall and winter signal oyster season. In this part of the world outdoor cooking is a true art form and the colder it gets the better we like it. A good oyster roast is a sure way to get even the lightest of light-weights away from the fireplace for some good old fashioned shuckin’ and jivin’. The rule of thumb is, “any month with an ‘R’ in it” is oyster season; that’s September through April. Prime season however is “between frosts”, from mid-October through mid-March. We know they are safe to eat any time of year. Yet, there is still something about the crisp coolness of autumn that just calls out for an open fire and an oyster roast. Folks here swear they simply taste better after the first good cold snap.
These frosty afternoons and evenings are prime-time for socializing and pulling out those warm winter clothes we love but probably wouldn’t have any real reason to wear otherwise. Every weekend there is a large oyster-roast fundraiser somewhere in town. Better yet, about half the back yards in town will have an open fire and a bushel or so roasting on it.
There are a number of ways to prepare the little beauties. We’ll often steam a few dozen on the stove top or roast them on a baking sheet in the oven. Just spread a couple of old towels on the kitchen counter and get to shuckin’. We’ve accomplished the same thing on the barbecue grill and even in our smoker. The big catered affairs will use large steamers that can steam a bushel or more at a time. How ever you cook them just keep an eye on them and when they start to open they are probably ready. They won’t all open; that’s ok. The others won’t open wide either. You can always pull one out and open it to see how things are going. Like anything else, some people like them raw, others like them well done. But most anyone will be happy with medium. That’s when they are hot and beginning to get firm but they are still juicy, slippery and a little translucent.
A truly traditional oyster roast though is over an open fire. A good seasoned oak fire makes the best coals when it burns down. At the corners of the fire place a rock, block or log to hold the tin. A sheet of tin, steel or an old car hood is all you need. Throw a bushel or so on the metal, soak an old burlap oyster sack in water and throw it on top. In ten or fifteen minutes, shovel them off the fire and onto the table. A genuine oyster table will have a hole in the middle of it for the shells to go through into a trash can.
Oyster knives are short, blunt knives with a guard around the handle to protect you knife hand from the sharp edges of the shell. Your other hand is protected by your oyster glove or a handtowel. If the shell is open just insert the knife and twist. The shell will snap open so you can retrieve the salty goodness inside. You can dip it in cocktail sauce, pepper sauce or whatever you like. A few saltine crackers and a good cold beer tops it off. Now, for another one.
Remember, when you belly up to the oyster bar with half the neighborhood around you, "He who shucks the most, eats the most.” So you’re gonna want to be able to open those big honkin, stubborn, jewel boxes nobody else wants to mess with. It’s not that hard if you know the trick. Don’t attack him from the front. He’s big, thick and juicy but he’s a stubborn SOB. The only way to defeat this guy is from the rear. Back there you’ll see the point where the top and bottom shell meet at the hinge. Find a good spot and drill your knife in there. Once you’re in solid, give the knife a good twist. Bingo! You’ve hit the jackpot! The best shuckers often end up opening some of those beauties for our spouse or neighbors.
In a little while you may need a break from all that shuckin. You need to leave a few oysters for some other folks so make room for somebody else at your table. Head on over for some fish stew or hot dogs. Have a beer to tamp them down real good then head back to the table.
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