Oyster

Think of this dish as the upscale cousin of that old standby, linguine with clams. Sparkling and oysters are a natural and festive combination, and here they combine to create a quick, fabulous pasta. This dish is almost a lighter version of an oyster stew, with the oysters poached just until done, the sauce brightened with prosecco, and then served over a fresh tangle of tagliarini. This would make a nice addition to a New Year’s Eve menu, or make any winter supper feel like a holiday.

Totten Virginicas, Stellar Bay Kusshis, and Shigoku oysters are my top three oysters. Shigokus are Pacific oysters raised in floating bags that rise and fall with the tide, creating a small, firm “tumbled” oyster in a scoop-shaped shell. They have an amazingly clean taste that hovers somewhere between saltwater and cucumber. Because their taste is so pure, I keep my garnishes straightforward. The Meyer Lemon Ice is a sweet, frozen version of a lemon squeeze, and the pickled beets are my idea of a mignonette. You can choose to prepare only one, but the array of all three, with oysters glistening on a bed of cracked ice, is one of the nicest ways I know to start an evening...or an afternoon. You’ll need crushed ice for serving the oysters. If you don’t have a refrigerator that dispenses it, you can crush it in a food processor or blender. In the restaurants, we grind the ice ahead of time and put it in a colander over a bowl so some of the water drains out. Another trick is to line the bowl with paper towels to soak up any melting water while the oysters are being served.

I love broiling Kusshis not only because they have a lovely, delicate texture and a good brininess, but also because they have deeply cupped shells that hold both liquid and a lot of delicious breadcrumbs. Cherrystone clams would be a great substitute, and Totten Virginica, Barron Point, or Shigoku oysters would also work well, because they are the right size to hold up to the heat. Save tiny Kumomotos for eating on the half shell.

When I was in college I had a job waiting tables at the Half Shell, a little wood-paneled restaurant in Memphis that makes the best fried oysters I have ever eaten. They serve their perfectly crisp-on-the-outside, juicy-on-the-inside oysters by the half-dozen, with lemon wedges and tartar sauce, but you can also get them layered with slaw in a creamy po’ boy sandwich or sprinkled atop eggs Benedict. A few years ago the Half Shell moved across the street to a larger location, and while it’s never felt quite the same since they moved, I still drop by for their fried oysters every time I visit Memphis. My Half Shell–inspired version of basic fried oysters makes a perfectly good meal on its own, but check out the four easy serving suggestions if you want to take things one step further.

Traditional oyster stew was one of my dad’s favorites, and he used to make it all the time, especially when we visited my sister in Biloxi, Mississippi, where we could get really fresh oysters. Taking a cue from oysters Rockefeller, another hallmark dish from Antoine’s Restaurant in New Orleans, I brighten my version with fresh spinach. And, to achieve the same smooth, creamy texture with less fat, I blend potatoes with just a touch of heavy cream to make the broth. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if desired. This soup should be served hot as soon as it’s done, lest the oysters continue to cook in the broth.

It used to be that Southerners ate oysters only in months with the letter r in them because it was just too hot from May to August to ensure their safety and freshness. Today, thanks to the wonders of modern refrigeration, they can be eaten year-round. Keep in mind that oysters must be cooked or eaten alive, so freshness is paramount when using oysters, mussels, clams, and scallops. Fresh, properly stored oysters should smell clean and briny, with no hint of fishiness. Any that remain open when tapped prior to cooking or closed after cooking should be discarded.

Although I had never tasted it myself, I decided to try my hand at bouillabaisse after listening to my dad reminiscing for years about the one he’d had in Marseilles, in a café overlooking the bustling port. Eventually, after much research, I felt I knew what it should taste like, but I was still overwhelmed when I had my first bowl in Nice many years later—it was even more complex and deeply flavored than Dad’s memories had suggested. This is one dish where a paticularly flavorful version of Fish Fumet (p. 205) is essential. Because we don’t have the same fish as they do in France (such as rascasse, the bony fish that makes a true bouillabaisse), I use Gulf fish and shellfish in the stock. I put in a mix of flounder, snapper, and trout bones along with shrimp shells (and heads, if available), and a couple of gumbo crabs for good measure. Make enough so that you can freeze a batch for the next time you make this stew. My one concession: mussels. We don’t get them in the Gulf, but it’s just not bouillabaisse without ’em. Roasted Red Pepper Rouille (p. 184) and thin slices of toasted baguette are the essential condiments for this soup.

This fabulous, herbaceous gumbo used to be primarily a meatless Lenten dish, served on Good Friday. It is a pretty rare find on menus these days, but if you should come across it, give it a try. It is a thinner, soupier gumbo than most, and you’ll be surprised how much flavor the greens impart to the broth. When I made it the first time, I thought of how wonderful oysters would taste with the herbs, so I decided to top it off with a few fried ones. You could still serve it during Lent, but don’t reserve this delicious gumbo for once a year.

This silky concoction makes an elegant starter, or a light supper if paired with the Parisienne Bistro Crudité Plate (p. 102) or the Bayona House Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette (p. 95) and a warm baguette. Oysters and artichokes are another favorite New Orleans combination. For your convenience I’ve called for canned artichoke hearts, but if you’re feeling expansive (and industrious), use fresh artichoke hearts. Your efforts will be rewarded.

This irresistible salad became a signature at Savoir Faire. I coat the oysters with bread crumbs flavored with sage, rosemary, and parsley—and strongly encourage you to use all three. The smell alone will have your mouth watering. Fried in this coating, the oysters take on a rich flavor that suggests stuffing. Placed atop a fresh spinach salad, the dish becomes a playful twist on Oysters Rockefeller (raw oysters on the half shell, topped with a spinach-bread crumb mixture and baked). The Rosemary-Dijon Dressing (which should be made first so the salad will come together easily at the end) is one you’ll make again and again—it’s delicious on just about any mix of greens.

This sumptuous appetizer stars oysters in an elegant and creamy guise. The oyster mixture spills over the sides of a thick triangle of toasted, buttered bread, and the whole thing is topped off with smoky bacon and snipped chives. The flavors of this dish are great with champagne and have a holiday feel, but it’s delicious anytime you can get great oysters. You could also toss the warm sauté with bow tie pasta for a decidedly rich Sunday supper.

If you’re not from Crescent City, this dish might seem like an unlikely trio of ingredients, but it’s my twist on a much-loved Louisiana combination. In New Orleans, we tend to serve oysters with just about anything—especially if there is beer and hot sauce involved. When I’m traveling, or asked to bring New Orleans-style food to other parts of the world, tasso is one of the things I smuggle. Tasso is another Cajun staple—cured, smoked pork (usually the shoulder), seasoned with red pepper, garlic, and various spices and herbs. Tasso is typically vacuum-packed, so it doesn’t spoil easily. Since the flavor is intense, it’s used more as a seasoning. In other words, 3 pounds of tasso provide the same mileage as 10 pounds of andouille—which I’m not willing to schlep. (So far I’ve managed to infiltrate France, Thailand, and England with tasso discreetly nestled in my luggage—and the authorities were none the wiser.) I’m an eggplant freak, and I can eat it any way, anytime. I have yet to find an eggplant dish that I don’t like—unless it’s one that’s undercooked. Eggplant is a great flavor carrier that stands up well to other ingredients. But you can also make this recipe by substituting sautéed spinach or fennel for the eggplant. A gratin is a nifty appetizer because it can be assembled in advance and requires very little last-minute prep.

There are many people out there who claim to be oyster lovers yet have eaten them only raw. It’s true that slurping down an oyster on the half shell is a great culinary experience, but to call yourself a true oyster aficionado you need to open yourself up to the glories of the cooked oyster. The meat is tender and even buttery, its fresh taste of the sea concentrated by the oven’s heat. A rich butter seasoned with the soft licoricelike flavor of tarragon and the sharp bite of black pepper melts over the cooked oyster, joining the oyster’s juices in the shell. Serving the oyster shells on a bed of salt is both an attractive and a handy presentation; the salt keeps the shells upright and keeps them from sliding around the platter.

Oyster shooters are a fun, tasty cocktail-hors d’oeuvre hybrid. Take a freshly shucked plump oyster, drop it into a shot glass, top off with booze, and tip it back. I started serving them at Bobby Flay Steak, where the mood is festive and the diners are often open to excess. This shooter adds a meaty coin of sweet lobster to the oyster to do the trick! The “shot” part of the dish is a smoky, vodka-spiked cocktail sauce, which is almost like a concentrated Bloody Mary. I thought these would be a perfect addition to the menu at Bar Americain too. I was right.

My friend Yvonne and I tested my Bloody Mary oyster shooters and got lightly “toasted” at the same time. We kept draining our shot glasses and after each one we figured we needed one more, just to make sure the seasoning was right. And besides, each shot glass contained dinner (an oyster and a vegetable) and a drink (a spot of vodka), so why stop before our appetites waned? Before we knew it we’d moved from testing to party mode. We laughingly dubbed our oyster concoction a “party in a shot glass,” and the name stuck. One thing is sure: start slurping these and you’ve got a party whether it’s for just the two of you or for a crowd of your best buddies.

Shortly after the first time I went to Cork Wine Bar, a bustling neighborhood restaurant a few blocks from me in Washington, D.C., I started making one of their signature appetizers for dinner parties. It’s simply bruschetta with sliced avocado, crushed pistachios, a drizzle of pistachio oil, and a sprinkle of fleur de sel. It is rich and pretty perfect as an hors d’oeuvre. When I started making it for myself, it wasn’t quite doing the trick. I wanted a little protein on there, as well as something to cut the richness. A can of one of my favorite products, smoked oysters, was the answer, as were tart green olives. I like to pump up the smokiness even further by tossing the oysters with a little smoked paprika, but I’ll leave that up to you. With or without it, this appetizer has grown up into a meal.

Whether in food or in adventure, our great life-affirming moments often come when nature and sentience find themselves suddenly on intimate terms. Gulping a fresh oyster from the half-shell can be as exhilarating as sailing headlong into white-capped seas with only the song of steel-cold air in the rigging to keep you company. This is why I never tire of the fall season’s promise for new discoveries in oysters. I recently discovered the Totten Inlet Virginicas from the southern Puget Sound: minerally, fresh, and clean with a consistently firm meaty texture. Introducing Shinkai deep sea salt to the Totten was an opportunity for a culinary adventure I could not pass up. The mineral flavors of the oysters amplify the abundant steely flavors already apparent in the salt, and bring to light glints of sweetness and kelp that you might never find on your own. A drop of mignonette and a pinch of Shinkai deep sea salt; the sea god Neptune never had better.

Fried oysters are essential in a Hangtown Fry, which also includes eggs and fried bacon. The dish is thought to have been created during the California gold rush in a camp called Hangtown, near Sutter’s Mill in the Coloma Valley. The town acquired its gruesome name because of frequent hangings, often carried out by vigilantes. For this recipe, you can either shuck the oysters yourself or buy fresh shucked oysters from your fishmonger.

Fried oysters are a staple of izakaya, the eating pubs that can be found in every Japanese neighborhood. These kinds of establishments are much more popular than bars, because we typically like to nibble on something while we enjoy a drink. In fact, this dish is one of my favorite complements to a frosty mug of draught beer. You’ll see that I don’t season the cabbage slaw in this recipe. In Japan, we typically create our own impromptu dressing with the two sauces for the oysters.

Chowders are thick soups containing fish or shellfish and vegetables such as potatoes and onions in a milk or tomato base. People most often associate these hearty soups with cold New England winters, but the Gulf of Mexico also has a history with them. Poor people living on the coast were able to supplement a diet of salted, preserved meat and inexpensive potatoes with seafood they caught or harvested. Meme would prepare this soup in the fall more often, using fatback for salt and flavor instead of bacon. Both meats produce a smoky, salty layer of flavor that is complemented by the sweet oysters. Use canola oil if you prefer a lighter, healthier version.

Po’ boy sandwiches are found all along the Gulf Coast and are a New Orleans tradition. There are various tales about the origin of the name: that it’s a slang version of “poor boy” and the sandwich used to be an inexpensive, yet filling meal; that the sandwich was given out to streetcar workers on strike, who were essentially poor boys; or that it is a bastardized version of the French “pour boire.” This last theory holds that the sandwich was a sort of olive branch that men would bring home after a night of drinking and carousing around town. Whatever the name’s origin, it is an excellent sandwich. Although one can find roast beef and gravy po’ boys or fried potato and gravy po’ boys, possibly the most popular version of this iconic Louisiana treat is fried seafood po’ boys made with shrimp and oysters from the Gulf. The key to light and crispy fried food is to use the right oil. Peanut oil is a great choice for frying: it has a mild, pleasant flavor; does not take on the tastes of foods as readily as other oils do; and has a smoke point of about 450°F, meaning you can safely heat it to a very high temperature.