Fried Oysters
Fried oysters, hard. That’s how it started, on a muggy summer night, in the 80s, likely with the ultimate saxophone anthem playing in the background, Mr. Magic. And thinking about it, that was probably the best way for a Gen-X kid to try an oyster.
The squishy and slidey of a raw oyster was definitely a no-go. But fried, with a bit of tartar sauce, maybe. Add two dashes of red pepper sauce, and some good music and now we’re talking. A kid could get down their first mollusk under this scenario.
In my case, it was definitely a close-your-eyes-and-swallow kind of affair. If I recall correctly, my parents were my cheering section.
‘Go ahead, try it.’
‘See, I just ate one. They are good.’
Fried Oysters
Vegetable oil, for frying
1 1/2 cups cornmeal
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, beaten
2 cups shucked fresh oysters, drained
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Heat oil to 350 degrees
2. Mix dry ingredients
3. Dip oysters in egg, then cornmeal mixture
4. Repeat
5. Fry oysters for 5 minutes
Our mint green kitchen was always the space for experiments like this. My first sip of coffee. The first time I cooked a hot dog. But before all that, there were fried oysters. I think I was nine, almost forty years ago. But even to this day, I’m not that big a fan of the way the insides of fried oysters look.
Cooked oysters are a natural shade of baby poop yellow inside, surrounded by a green that can best be described as spoiled. That’s why it’s best to pick out the one-biters for noobs, the small ones they can get down in one piece.
But we only had juicy, big-bootied oysters that day. Tablespoon-sized monsters that only a competitive eater could swallow whole. And so I bit. Crunch. Swallow. Cringe.
If I recall correctly, my young mind gave fried oysters a solid rating of five. Not, throw-up worthy. But also, not something I’d ever try again. I didn’t die. But I also wasn’t living for fried oysters that day.
But that rating only lasted for a few years, maybe three, until, my mother and grandmother dragged me to New Orleans. I don’t know if they had a plan or what. Maybe they did this to all the northern-born children in my family, so they too could be connected to the city of their ancestors. Maybe my mom and gramma had a phone call one night, about my case, after I went to bed.
‘Mama, this boy just won’t eat an oyster without a fight. What are we gonna do? I don’t want no picky eaters in this house.’
‘I know what to do. When we go down to New Orleeanns, when the kids are off school, we’ll visit Pearl and nem. And we gone do the full seafood tour. That’ll get ’em.’
That’s what I imagine happened. But, who knows. Like many mothers, mine won’t share the details with me. Perhaps because she still has a few more things she needs to convince me of. I am still not really a fan of shrimp. So, we’ll see what happens.
But here’s how New Orleeanns went down. First, they showed me the oyster shells. They were in these open-air silos, big ones, tall like a building, but missing one wall so you could see everything inside.
The shell piles were taller than three people standing on shoulders, and the shells were shining in places like something precious. As I walked past, jagged reflections kept poking my eyes as if to say, ‘Don’t ignore us.’
Atop each mound was a woman in a black hair net and white smock, the tuxedo of an oyster shucker. They were each moving hands like orchestra conductors, each woman in charge of a one-person symphony with a knife and oyster shells as her instruments. Up comes a shell. Two: cut through. Down goes the shell. Four: one more… slimy oyster to eat.
I wasn’t completely convinced. And, Mom and Gramma probably knew this. I’m sure they’d wowed more than one kid with the old oyster shell mound trick. They had just opened my eyes. It was time for step two.
A bit of sauce, some veg, and French bread changes the nature of the fried oyster completely. I´m talking about the fried oyster po’ boy here. If you’ve ever had one, I’m sure you can relate.
The sauce covers up the light funk lurking within the creamy oyster innards. And the crunchy veg is the antidote to the overcooked liver texture that the insides of fried oysters can sometimes have.
It is basically a hollowed-out French loaf filled with fried oysters –cornmeal fried– and topped with salad and a remoulade sauce. But it is balanced. It is delicious. It is New Orleeanns. That’s why it has been around since the 1910s.
Remoulade Sauce
1 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tablespoon finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 tablespoon Louisiana-style hot sauce
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons capers, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon mild paprika
1 scallion, finely chopped
salt and pepper to taste
Musicians Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet, both, mention eating po’ boys after gigs in New Orleans around the turn of the 20th century. The sandwich was a staple in the black community at that time. Since it was cheap, filling, tasty, and because oysters were easily accessible, it was the fill-me-up food. But other places besides New Orleans had oysters in the US.
Fried oyster sandwiches were also popular in San Francisco around then, too. But the West Coast version was like a fried oyster Rockefeller –aka with a cheese and spinach gratin– in sourdough bread. And there was no remoulade. So similar, but different.
Over on the West Coast, they ate fried oyster sandwiches for the same reasons as black folk in New Orleans did. It was late-night food, or to be eaten to help sober up or to fill an empty stomach after a hard day.
But as the oyster beds in San Francisco died out, the dish became less available in California. So today, we primarily associate fried oyster sandwiches with New Orleans.
About a decade later, the po’ boy crossed over into white communities in NOLA. The sandwich became the food of choice for striking white transit workers in the 1920s, who relied on it when there were no wages. That’s how the white po’ boys took up the name and the love for this sandwich.
But back to Greer, and my scheming gramma. So after the majesty of the oyster shell mounds, step two was to ply me with a hot, steaming oyster po’ boy.
It was the biggest sandwich I’d ever seen. And they let me have the whole thing, just to marvel at the grandiosity of it, I think. They knew I couldn’t eat all that. But, it was necessary if I was to be converted, if I was to succumb to the allure of the oyster.
They bought it from a deli where everything was oversized. The deli case seemed cruise ship-sized. The man behind the case seemed equally large, but he had a kind face. The deli paper on the sandwich he gave me made that crinkle noise that all paper wrapped around presents does. And it kept crinkling as I went to work on this monster.
It hit me on the third bite, not the first, just what this fried oyster thing was all about. I understood why the ladies in Shuckers’ tuxedos were doing what they were. And I got why my Mom and Gramma made this 24-hour pilgrimage with me, north to south, from the border with Canada all the way to the Gulf.
These are the things parents do for kids. And not just mine.
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Stewed Oysters
MFK Fisher, one of America’s most beloved food writers, wrote a whole book about oysters in 1941. And just like me, her memories of oysters started in childhood. She wrote about:
‘…the cozy pleasure of Sunday night supper in wintertime, when crackers and the biggest turrine of steaming buttery creamy oyster stew stood on the table, and [there was] plenty.
Creamy Oyster Stew
MFK Fisher, 1941
2 cups oyster juice
4 tablespoons of butter
1 quart oysters
2 cups cream
and salt and pepper to taste
1. Combine oyster juice and butter until a sauce is created
2. Reduce heat low and add oysters and cook for 2 minutes
3. Add cream and heat until steaming
Her recipe for oyster stew is simple. Just four ingredients really, because, there’s something comforting about the basics. But for the more jazzy among us, she admits that you can add paprika, celery, black pepper. And she debates whether a low and slow cook is better than getting a slight fry on the oysters.
I would also add that onions or another allium is necessary in this dish for me. But, I come from heavy seasoning people. But even with a bit of onion, this is nothing more than good home cooking. It’s easy to make, cheap, and will fill up the family.
That´s how her Irish and Espicopalian family treated oysters while living and eating in Whittier, California in the 1910s and 20s. But creamy oyster stew recipes in the US go back as far as the mid-1700s. There are even recipes where creamy oyster stew is served over bread. Maybe, these are the predecessors to the fried po’ boy. No one really knows.
But what we do know is that oyster stew, like the classic po’ boy, is a dish that is still cooked from coast to coast in the US, from frigid New England to balmy southern California, and everywhere in between.
I even ate a version of it in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico in a joint called Disco Mariscos. Ten percent of the population there is gringo. And so, you can find a lot of American-style dishes on menus.
But of course, the context is different. In my case, I ate creamy oyster stew while gleaming disco balls turned above my head and while a cats-and-boots-and-cats-boots remix of Love to Love You by Donna Summer wafted through. It was a bit swank, to be honest. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a po-boy recipe on the menu the next time I go back.
But that’s how a lot of people enjoy oysters today. They are eaten at swank oyster bars, where cooks hand brush the sand from each shell and the menu includes varieties from all over the world. In these craft oyster restaurants, the oyster masters serve the plumpest, juiciest, freshest, and usually most expensive oysters.
In these altars to the oyster, they bless the slimy blobs with the stamp of artisanal production. And daintily arched, artisanal hands prep and serve them to customers, seated, prostrate, and expectant. Meanwhile, the prostrate diners snap pictures for the ‘Gram.
In the 18th century, the devoted palmed rosary beads to remind them of the good stuff of life. In the 21st, they swipe their ‘Gram profiles. In my 21st-century oyster altar, there were disco balls and a DJ. And I admit that I did take a few pictures.
But craft oyster joints aren’t anything new. Take this 200-year-old artisanal oyster dish from Downing’s Oyster House. It’s just an upscaled version of the good ol’ oyster stew MFK Fisher ate, in my opinion.
Oyster Pan Roast
Thomas Downing, cerca 1820s
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium shallot, chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 cup oyster liquor
3 tablespoons chili sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
3 dozen freshly shucked oysters
1 cup heavy cream
12 baguette slices, toasted
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Create a sauce with the wet ingredients, except cream
2. Add oysters to pan and cook through, 2 minutes
3. Add cream and heat till steaming
4. Pour sauce and oysters over toasted baguette slices
In this recipe, you make a sauce in a pan and then saute the oysters in it. The oysters and sauce are then served over the baguette slices.
It’s more of a French-style sauce with oysters in it rather than a classic stew. But it’s still saucy oysters, just with more ingredients, double actually. It’s a dish that you can charge more for. And Mr. Downing did.
Thomas Downing, the black man who owned Downing’s Oyster House was the first craft oyster hawker in the US. Before Delmonico’s and the Grand Central Oyster Bar, there was Downing’s Oyster House.
Downing’s Manhattan restaurant was known for its elegance and service. And it turned the raucous, rowdy, and bawdy oyster house into an artisanal and craft experience, civilized enough for even women to eat there.
And Mr. Downing himself was part of the story. His were the artisanal hands that powered the machine. Born in Eastern Virginia, on the Chesapeake Bay, in oyster country, Downing came from a family of oyster farmers. It’s where he learned the craft and how to select the Grade A animals. But the difference about New York is that there were fine oysters, and a market of folks eager to eat experience as much as oyster stew.
Downing took advantage of the opportunity that was right in front of him. He provided for his family, made jobs for the community, and created a stop in the Underground Railroad to boot. As an oyster lover myself, I might have done the same if I had lived then, and proudly.
Today, I have the choice to eat at a place like Disco Mariscos. I ordered several dishes and drinks mostly without incident. And though the staff spoke directly to my Mexican co-eater and not to me, this microaggression was nothing compared to what Downing would have experienced in New York in the 19th century.
Downing could not even eat in the restaurant he owned, nor could his family. While his artisanal hands made this experience possible, he could not participate in it. He wasn’t even considered a citizen even though born in the US.
Instead, his restaurant was curated for the white and well-off. So, black and poor people could eat po’ boys. But, oyster pan roast was off-limits. It’s a feature that still exists in many craft restaurants today. They are curated for the well-off, who are assumed to be white.
On the other hand, artisanal hands, which are attached to ethnic bodies, are considered without taste sufficient to enjoy anything more than oysters from a street cart. It was largely Black hands and bodies that represented the artistic experiences white patrons could enjoy in the upscale oyster world. (This is also true for whiskey, barbecue, and many other craft foods.) But that does not mean that Black people didn’t make any money from oysters.
Oysters as Fast Food
Most Black folk were relegated to selling oysters from street carts, small shops, or fresh from the oyster beds. They served them raw, fried, or stewed, however their clientele preferred them. Before hot dogs, oysters were the ultimate fast food.
Black oystermen vastly outnumbered white ones in the 19th and early 20th centuries. This was true from New York and New Jersey, down to the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia and Maryland, all the way to Louisiana. In some places, up to 80% of oystermen were black folk. That’s why the African-American oyster recipe repertoire is so vast.
Yes, I said repertoire. Here’s what I’m talking about. The 1901 book 301 Ways to Cook Shell Fish by H. Frankyln Hall includes over 100 oyster recipes, 101 to be exact. And of those, 57 could be cooked as fast-food oysters.
Hall was a Black caterer in Philadelphia in the early 20th century. (The history of Black caterers, especially Black caterers in Philadelphia is a topic unto itself.) So, he understood prepping ingredients, and what could be done ahead of time so that you could serve a completed dish fast and hot. And he understood what people wanted to eat.
His cookbook includes raw, sauteed, broiled, stewed, and fried recipes that you can have ready for patrons in the street or at a fancy catered event. But, the truth is that oysters are fast food whether you pay the cost to ship them from the other side of the world or you scoop them up from your nearest brackish, submerged pier.
Oyster on the half-shell
H Franklyn Hall, 1901
On the half shell, (deep or flat) according to fancy. Place the oyster, shell down, on a bank or cone of shaved or find cracked ice. Serve with lemon and bleached celery. Do not commit the common error of putting cracked ice on top of the oyster.
The difference here is perception. You can eat oysters, like those in Hall’s recipe, in the finest oyster houses. And you can find them freshly shucked, beachside. It is always the same animal.
So the important part to me, Greer, is the nourishment. When I eat an oyster, it nourishes my connection to my ancestors, those who drove hours to help me understand their allure. It connects me to those who ate it on the other side of the waters, not knowing I would become their legacy. It connects me to the present, where I, as a sometimes practicing cosmopolitanite, can enjoy oysters DJ-side. And it connects me to my community, when I serve them up, hot and fresh, grill-side on my patio.
Barbecued Oysters
Greer Jackson, 2024
16 oysters
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 teaspoon chili pepper flakes
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon finely minced parsley
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Place cleaned oysters in half shell on the grill until they open
2. Add butter and garlic
3. Grill for 4-5 minutes more
4. Add parsley, lemon juice and serve
Savory, herby, smoking off the grill, and juicy. Parsley, dill, and celery leaf serve me best from the options available in my herb garden. But, you can get wild and add bittering edible flowers from any of your alliums, or other herbs.
Sometimes I add a bit of white wine to the oysters. Buttery chardonnays are excellent. But my recipe is not the same as what they do over in New Orleans. It´s not how they did it in New York. But it suits me just fine. Either way, I’m connecting with all of this history when I eat an oyster today.
Look, a full three-quarters of my family are inland folk. They were eating river fish primarily, not oysters. It is only because we are in the 21st century that this article even makes sense for me to write. But here we are, when inland folk can enjoy succulent barbecued oysters.
But even that is not the final point. Most people think about African-American food in terms of the celebration plate: fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread. But there is so much more to the repertoire.
Today, we are covering oysters. That is not to say we are the only ones that do oysters. I do not make a sole ownership claim to them. I simply make my claim to them.
My mom and gramma drove 24 hours to convince me of this claim. My father played the best sax anthem in the world to calm me while I tried this delicacy for the first time. They loved them. They wanted me to love them. And so, I do.
Oysters in African-American Food
In case you were wondering, all 11 sub-Saharan African countries –the places where the majority of African Americans have roots– enjoy coastlines rich with shellfish including oysters. So, many New World Africans arrived here with knowledge and traditions of how to harvest and cook shellfish. They were cooked quick, but also in stews and smoked.
It’s likely that Indigenous Americans also supplemented the newly arrived Africans’ knowledge with specifics about oyster species on this side of the Atlantic. Native Americans have been taking advantage of this food source for over 5,000 years.
Like every other immigrant cuisine in the United States, African-American food is a fusion cuisine. It fuses traditional African preferences and skills with indigenous ingredients and skills and when necessary, adapts it to the taste of America as a whole. And that includes the African-American oyster repertoire.
The next time you think about Black food, I hope oysters come to mind.
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