By Chad McCowan
Is it me or is there a culinary resurgence of the maligned oyster, a delicacy today shipped from all parts of the cold northern waters to a fine dinner table in our restaurant savvy town. With all due respect to Dusty’s of Panama City, where the Apalachicola’s are shucked by the billion and are entirely wonderful, fancy me a dozen of the smaller Prince Edward Bay’s any day or better yet Bayou La Batres Murder Point’s. The shift in sentiment over the years does intrigue though.
I have ‘shucker’ in my job history (that was the actual job title), sometime close to 1982 at a local pub on the curb in Homewood called The Station. A cozy beer joint that served sandwiches mostly and had an actual train running around the entire establishment just above the reach of regulars. It was a young boys dream, except for the shucking. Every Friday night was fresh oyster night, and a high school boy and I would shuck bushels for hours until our hands were blue from cold and bloody from scrapes. What a gig….and I was scared for years I guess, as there was no shucking going on or oysters of any style until I met my future wife’s family during Christmas holidays.
Christmas Eve was the traditional fare with beef and lots of sides, all the talk though was of the next days oyster roast, a real fire oyster roast indeed. Extended family would gather in the dozens as the fire blazed and the burlap sacks soaked in salt-water preparation. Whole oysters are dumped over the burlap covered fires and left to sizzle until the flat shell just pops from the cup. Then drizzled with drawn butter and maybe parmesan and a hot sauce dash and you have yourself an oyster roast. Add some uncles and cousins who are very apt at guitar playing and you have yourself a wonderful family tradition. Not to mention I didn’t shuck a shuck, the fire does this for you…perfect! They never taught me such at The Station! I have tried to replicate this at home on a smaller version, to some luck. The more natural the better is my takeaway for a true oyster roast but otherwise using an oven or grill can provide a very nice afternoon treat.
The oysters of today are indeed more likeable. 95% of oysters consumed today are farm raised, selected for breeding to minimize the risk of infection and regulations have increased, all good things. Raw oysters are still a risk, not even recommended by the FDA apparently for consumption (your oyster, your choice). But the trade has made many strides to improve the product and reputation, and for that I am thankful. And a roasting is such a wonderful alternative for the less adventurous.
Which brings me to why I thought to write this oyster of a story. I happened to be reading Stanley Tucci’s What I Ate in One Year over the holidays, who in a long early spring weekend took his family to the Bordeaux coast region to enjoy a small inn there. The first morning was filled with a visit to the western coast of France, and a long a row of oyster shacks where they gathered a bushel of varietals for the weekend. I literally cannot think of a more enjoyable morning. Literally. And then in midst of writing this oyster homage, our Mobile, Alabama friends shipped us a small bushel of Murder Points, a perfect gesture.
And so today, the oyster appears to be back among the culinary elite and I for one welcome the movement. Many of our favorite Birmingham spots today feature freshly shucked oysters, Automatic and the new Armour House (both near downtown) just being two. Wonderfully prepared to order with harvest locations options aplenty to explore. Most have baked and roasted options as well. So, the New Year’s challenge is this…venture out a bit and try one these spots famous for their food (and oysters) or visit one of our local fresh seafood markets and get yourself a few dozen. Grab a shucker, a dry towel, put on some music, and give it a try. The world is your oyster my friends. Go make some memories.
Cheers.
