I love fresh oysters. When we lived in the city, we used to go to the wharf for Christmas and New Year, get fresh oysters in their shell, mud from the Chesapeake bay still clinging to them. Later that day, Keith would scrub them clean, open them and arrange them on trays of ice. A squeeze of lemon, a little bread with good butter, a glass of champagne, more oysters, and that would New Year Dinner. They were a treat. Still are.
The Chesapeake Bay, the largest estuary in the US, provided ideal conditions for oyster to thrive – at least until the 20th century. Indian populations as well as colonists greatly enjoyed them, or – so we think - based on the shell middens found in archaeological digs.
When I first encountered shucked oysters sold in a jar, I was shocked. I had no idea they were eaten, let alone sold, not in their shell. Eventually I got accustomed to the idea and have actually used such oyster for creamy stews.
And then at a rural cafe years ago, I saw “fried oysters” on the menu. Another moment of incredulity … promptly followed by an order of fried oysters. mmm… I was not impressed. Wasn’t bad, but wasn’t great either. And that was pretty much it until last year.
That’s when – another shock! – I realized how much people loved oysters around here. A lot. Except not raw. Fried. That was also rather surprising, but I will admit that there are good fried oyster and there are bad fried oysters. I have had both and some so-so (as in my first experience). And I have learned how to make good fried oysters from Danny at the Fire Hall.
