Shell Game - Recap

The oyster generates passion... and revulsion. Fans say there’s nothing finer than slurping down an oyster plucked fresh from the sea, while detractors regard them as mysteries at best, or slimy mud slugs worthy only of a grimace and a hasty retreat. Even Alton suggests that the first oyster was doubtless downed on a dare, but adds that the second, third, fourth, and all since have gone down with a smile. Raw or cooked, oysters can deliver the goodness of the sea like no other critter can. With the tools and know how Alton will share, anyone can turn these humble bivalves into... Good Eats!

At Fontaine’s Oyster bar, Alton returns an empty shell to the serving plate. Oysters, he says, are the hottest thing on two plates. But the fad is merely history in repeat, for the Greeks loved oysters. They ate so many they used the shells as ballots. The Romans and Chinese liked them, too – the Chinese preferred theirs dried. And there are huge piles of oyster shells along the American coasts, mute testimony to the part oysters played in the diet of ancient Americans. In the nineteenth century folks couldn’t get enough of the bivalve and by 1860 in New York, they outsold anything at the butcher’s counter. Bars served them for a penny a dozen and street vendors sold them as fast food. They were even, for a time, considered food for the poor. Charles Dickens, in “The Pickwick Papers” wrote that poverty and oysters always go together.

Outside, Alton notices an oyster vendor in a top hat and tailcoat, pushing a barrow of bivalves. He offers Alton the chance to slurp one down. Alton points down and says he has a little problem; misreading the comment entirely, the seller jauntily informs Alton that a dozen of the mollusks will fix him right up. Offended, Alton corrects the man; the problem isn’t his britches, but the vendor’s sanitation! Confused, the man asks if Alton is calling him crazy, and Alton says no – but adds that anyone who ate oysters that had sat in the sun all day would be crazy. As an aside, Alton marvels that we survived to the twentieth century. When the vendor sulkily tells Alton it’s not nice to call people crazy, Alton offers him money. Not for oysters, so he’ll buy ice.

Since oysters are alive when purchased, one must be careful to select them wisely. That means finding a reliable vendor. (The barrow peddler’s even angrier when he realizes Alton has called him unreliable!) Continuing, Alton suggests that a reliable vendor ought to operate out of a store. The oyster man trundles off, saying goodbye to Alton in a voice no longer freighted by an accent...

At Harry’s Farmer’s Market, Alton finds a case of oysters. It’s easy to become intimidated; to counter this, Alton recommends remembering that oysters are like coffee beans. Most coffee beans are the variety – Arabica – regardless of where they’re grown. They taste different because of where they’re grown. Oysters are much the same; their specific habitat has the greatest influence on their flavor. Alton turns to John Bowler, an expert, for help. John shows Alton various oysters, such as the Apalachicola, the Blue Point (from Long Island Sound), and the Malpeque (from Prince Edward Island). Like many Canadian oysters, the Malpeque is smaller; it has sweeter meat. John also shows Alton the Parramour (from Chincoteague Bay) which has a mildly salty, fruity flavor, and the Beausoleil (literally, “beautiful sun”) from Nova Scotia. It has a sweet and mild flavor and is smaller. Finally John pulls out his sole Pacific specimen: an Emerald Cove oyster from British Columbia. It has a mildly salty flavor, and its shell as a frilled or scalloped edge (a characteristic shared by many western oysters). What kind your store has depends on where you live; they must be shipped alive, and that means distance (and therefore time) are limiting factors. Alton takes... all of them. Joe leaves to get a larger bag...

Returning home, Alton arranges his oysters flat in a plastic box. If stored in their edges, the animals may open their shells, spilling their liquor. They’ll go bad faster if that happens. Alton tops the oysters with a moist cloth; if he’s got a lot of them, he uses another such cloth between every few layers. They need not rest on ice, but they must be refrigerated. They’ll last about a week stored this way.

At the First Skookum Bank, Alton drops down on a rope. Getting into the bank vault might be harder than getting into an oyster – but only a little. Pondering, Alton produces explosives – overkill – and a large saw – that might get shell shards in the meat, which would be bad eats. Alton concludes the right choice is leverage. And that’s when Lever Man drops in. This blue clad superhuman can pry anything open, and he’s got a crowbar for Alton’s oysters. Alton sends him to work on the bank vault before calling in someone who can actually help: W!

W presents Alton with an oyster glove: elasticized cotton and a rubberized palm enable Alton to grip an oyster firmly. Next, she hands him an oyster knife, with an ergonomic handle and a sturdy blade with a slightly angled tip about two and three-quarters inches long. Alton grips the oyster flat side up to avoid losing the liquor, then pops the knife in by the hinge and works the knife around the shell, separating the adductor muscle from the shell. Just as Alton finishes, Lever Man pops the bank vault and all three depart hastily, followed by the shrilling of burglar alarms.

Back in the kitchen, Alton demonstrates again: pop the knife into the hinge and twist until the hinge pops and then work the knife around pressing against the shell to sever the adductor muscle. Sweep under the body to separate the other muscle the oyster is ready. Oysters taste best very fresh, so Alton recommends doing the shucking right before serving them. If they’re appetizers, six large eastern or eight little Canadian should be right; if they’re a main dish, the sky’s the limit. Purists use no flavors at all, but Alton prefers a squeeze of lemon or a little hot sauce, or a dab of horseradish. But not icky prepared horseradish – he’s got a recipe for homemade.

Horseradish belongs to the cabbage family, kin to mustards, turnips and other radishes. Its name derives from an English misapprehension of the German word “merritech” which means “sea radish.” The English evidently saw “mer” and thought of a female horse and the rest is history.

Alton starts by peeling a couple inches of root, and then grating that into a bowl. A little white wine vinegar, black pepper, kosher salt and Dijon mustard go in after the horseradish. Finally, Alton adds sour cream and mixes it all up thoroughly, then lets it mellow for at least a few hours. One of the crew accepts an oyster dabbed with this sauce, and slurps it quickly down. The sauce keeps in the fridge for two or three weeks, and those who don’t like the initial pungency can wait a few days – it will die down a bit. Alton likes his full strength.

Traditional wisdom, Alton continues, says not to eat oysters in months whose names lack the letter “R” – that is, summer months. The issue is spawning, which turns the meat milky, soft, and nasty. Genetically modified oysters that do not spawn have somewhat solved this problem, but there is another important reason. Doctor Totten and Nurse Fanny Bay enter and side on either side of Alton; the nurse puts a thermometer in his mouth. Doctor Totten asks Alton if he knows about vibro vulnificus. Alton does – it’s a bacterium found in oysters living in warm water during the summer months. It can cause sickness, or even death, especially in those with liver problems, cancer, immune system problems or diabetes. Canadian and Pacific varieties are generally not colonized because the bacterium does not thrive in the cold waters where these oysters grow. Doctor Totten adds that the bacterium doesn’t like stomach acid and rarely survives a trip through the stomach, but cautions diners not to take antacids before eating raw oysters. Fortunately, the organism is fairly rare, which is good – because oysters are low in fact, high in protein and contain both Omega-3 fatty acids and minerals (including zinc, which Nurse Bay coyly points out increases testosterone production). Alton then asks the doctor if oysters are aphrodisiacs. Sadly, they’re not (but Doctor Totten offers to write Alton a prescription if he needs help.)

While hardcore fans say raw is the only way to go, the oyster actually responds well to heat – but not too much. A hundred years ago, Alton tells viewers, a New Orleans chef named Jules Alciatore devised a recipe called Oysters Rockefeller. He took it to the grave with him, but Alton has concocted a suitable replacement. Snooty rich diner Martin Moonstone III tells Alton he’ll be the judge of that.

Alton starts with his biggest skillet – it need not be nonstick – and sets it over medium low heat before adding some unsalted butter. At medium low, the fats in the butter will melt before the water turns to steam, avoiding all that unpleasant popping. Once the butter melts, Alton adds finely chopped onion and finely chopped celery and just a little kosher salt, then sweats them for a few minutes. He turns the heat to just under medium. At about the five minute point, he adds garlic and continues the sweat for another minute or so, while he chops a can of artichoke hearts (draining them first). He adds the hearts, some panko bread crumbs, lemon zest, freshly ground black pepper and dried oregano, and finally another pinch of salt. He stirs that until the ingredients absorb all the butter, about another minute over low heat.

Four cups of salt covers a half sheet pan with a bed that will hold the oysters level so the liquor doesn’t drain out. Aluminum foil also works, but does not retain heat nearly as well as salt. After arranging his oysters, Alton covers each with the filling and puts the tray into a 400º oven for ten to twelve minutes. The topping keeps the oysters from drying out too much, but watch it carefully – it can go from golden brown and delicious to overcaramelized very quickly.

When the oysters are done, Alton removes them and offers them to Martin Moonstone, who eats four complete servings. Offered a fifth, he refuses, but Alton convinces him that a single thin mint will go down nicely – and then leaves him complaining of chest pain...

Alton’s shown how oysters act raw as well as cooked and covered. His final idea for the episode is to show them as team players, as in: soup. First, he gets oysters from his chill chest: pre-shucked and packed. They’re not quite as tasty, but they’ll come close enough for this purpose. To avoid trouble, Alton cautions purchasers to mind the use by date and the color of the liquor – it should be clear, never cloudy. Next, Alton gets out cream. Yep, cream – its fat will spread the subtle flavor of the oysters and it will add a smooth texture. Finally, he grabs two ribs of celery and a little butter.

To start he drains the oysters into a saucepan and adds the cream. That simmers over medium. Then he sweats the celery and a little salt in the butter, and tosses in an onion, finely chopped. When all the vegetables are soft and translucent, he adds the oysters and a bit of celery seed, and finishes with several shots of hot sauce. Then he adds the oysters; when they’d plump and starting to frill, they’re done. Oysters and vegetables go into the blender (or a food processor, but a blender will make a smoother soup). Alton adds just enough of the cream mixture to cover the oysters and then purees the mixture until the oysters disappear. He returns the rest of the cream to medium heat and adds the puree with a sprinkle of lemon juice, serving with fresh herbs such as parsley, chervil or chives.

With three ways to prepare them, Alton hopes he’s offered oyster lovers new ideas for enjoying the mollusks, and tempted others out of their culinary shell so they’ll give oysters a chance to become... Good Eats!

Share this article with your friends