Mike Grant
The following quote is from a PBS interview with an oysterman.
Claude Duplessis has been harvesting oysters for all his adult life. He was among a group of Pointe a la Hache residents who gathered at the Saint Thomas Catholic Church to talk about how the oil spill has been affecting business.
CLAUDE DUPLESSIS, oysterman: If the oil comes in, they're destroyed, not just temporarily, but for a long, long time.
SPENCER MICHELS: Really?
CLAUDE DUPLESSIS: Yes. Yes, sir. Oil has a real adverse effect on oyster reefs. The oyster -- in the reproduction stage, the oysters that -- put out a milk that's what we call spat. And this spat swims around in the water until it find a clean, hard surface to attach itself to, and it grows from there. Now, if the oil coats the shell and the culch, then the spat can't stick. And you can -- this can -- continues for years.
Reference:
http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/environment/jan-june10/oil2_06-02.html
A few days after the April 20 explosion and fire that destroyed the Deepwater Horizon drill rig and killed eleven workmen in the Gulf of Mexico, we started hearing a lot about oysters, oyster farms, and oyster fishermen (oystermen). I started hearing so much about them that I couldn’t get them off my mind.
I was reminded of some of my past oyster experiences. Oyster stew is a New Year’s Eve tradition at our house, and raw oysters on the half shell have been associated with some of the best times I can remember. Since raw oysters are properly preceded by one or two shots of fine whiskey, and accompanied by good stout brew, it is entirely possible that there are some really good oyster times I can’t remember.
Some of the best memories come from a couple of occasions eating oysters at Boston’s Quincy Market with Brother Joe. One fond and certainly time-embellished memory is of a day when the raw oyster appetizer was preceded by being served up a double Bushmills and a Guinness by an honest-to-God bar tending incarnation of Maureen O’Hara at the famous Black Rose pub. She had the unique talent of, with a magical flick of the wrist, making a perfect shamrock in the foam head on a perfect draught of Guinness Stout. This might have been the Karmic convergence of the universe’s most beautiful woman and most exquisite draft. I also remember that lunch that day cost a bit over $100 and it was my day to buy.
The publicized plight of the Louisiana oysters brought on an unexplained craving, so Kristin and I set off on a mission to eat some fresh oysters, and we knew just the place: the Little Creek Casino on the Olympic Peninsula, minutes north of Olympia. We had stopped there before and enjoyed the shellfish combo sampler in the saloon. You get ½ lb. each of oysters, steamer clams, mussels, and some good bread for sopping up the juice for $18.00, and they have a number of local microbrews on tap. Can’t beat it.
On the way in, we noticed a poster advertising that Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers would be there in June. When the lady at the front desk saw us looking at the advertisement, she immediately informed us that it was sold out except for a few individual seats, no sitting together. Damn! Then we saw it, a big fabric banner announcing the 2010 Western Washington 4-String Banjo Festival. It was happening that day! Right then! We were just in time! It was free! Awesome! We went looking for oysters and found a pearl!
We fairly flew down the halls right past the oyster bar. We came to a large but otherwise typical motel conference room with about 200 silver heads bobbing in rhythm. Man! There were banjos. and accordions, and pianos, and washboards, and tambourines, and mouth harps, and fiddles, and cymbals, and tubas, and duets, and quartets, and nobody who wouldn’t qualify for AARP. They were clubs from Seattle, and Tacoma, and Olympia, and from all over Western Washington, and they played melancholy and hoe-down and not one song we didn’t recognize. And they were good! We stayed and listened and clapped until we were hungry enough to eat raw oysters. You have to be mighty hungry to eat the raw oysters on the $18 plate. (A plate with the smaller and consequently more palatable oysters is an extra 3 bucks.) Some explanation ensues.
There are only five species of oysters eaten in the U.S. Take this information for what you think it is worth.
Pacific oysters:
Small and sweet
World’s most cultivated
Usually named after the place they are grown.
Kumatomo oysters:
· Small, sweet, nutty
· Deep bowl shaped shell
Atlantic or American Oyster (Crassostrea virginica)
· 85% of oysters harvested in the U.S.
· Includes the famous bluepoints, Wellfleets, etc.
· Note: Most oysters are named for, and taste like where they come from
· Again, reportedly small and sweet
European Flats
· Smooth flat shell
· Europeans increasingly appreciate Pacific oysters while Maine and Washington farms are recently charmed with European flats.
Olympia Oysters
· Small
· Only West Coast native
· Nearly wiped out by over harvesting in the 1800’s to feed the newly rich gold miners in San Francisco who saw oyster eating as symbolic of wealth.
· Wild stocks are protected
Note that nearly all these types are advertised as small and sweet. None are listed as too flippin’ big to choke down. These are what you get on the $18 plate. If you get them as an oyster shooter, it has to come in a tumbler. You couldn’t get one of these things in a shot glass with a shoe horn and a tamping rod. My recommendation is to spring for the Kumatomos or get them steamed, in which case they are pretty good. We got four raw and three steamed. The mussels and steamers were small and sweet.
Oyster Shooter (There are about as many versions as there are places that serve them. This one looked particularly enticing).
1 small freshly shucked oyster with its juice.
· 1 oz. cold high quality vodka
· Dash Tabasco
· Squeeze of lemon
· Chilled cocktail glass
The following Thursday evening we went down to the local farmer’s market held in the little strip mall just above the Browns Point lighthouse. There were booths with organic vegetables, and raspberries and blackberries. There was one with samples of really good all natural ice cream in six or eight flavors, and there was one with fresh shellfish including oysters. There was a guy playing the guitar and singing. He sounded just like Willie Nelson. No kidding! Another surprise pearl. I’ve not craved oysters lately, but I think of them every time I see a newscast shot of the leaking oil well. I sure hope the oysters and oystermen come out of this thing okay because they are integral parts of this great American life.
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