oysters

How to Open an Oyster

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My post about oyster chowder prompted a friend of mine to say, “once I go to all the trouble (and usually, bloodshed) of shucking oysters, the last thing I want to do is cook them!” Every time I open oysters now, this rings in my ears.

And his words (especially “bloodshed”) got me to thinking that I treated the small but vital detail about how to open them a bit too lightly. So I made a 46-second video this afternoon. And I’d like to offer the following pointers.

First, start with small oysters. They’re much easier to open than large ones (when making the chowder with the six too-big-to-eat ones, I not only broke a sweat, but I seriously contemplated getting out a hammer and smashing one or two of them).

Second, wear gloves. Because I tend to get eczema on my hands, I do all my cooking while wearing heavy blue Nitrile gloves. (Also, if you’re not wearing gloves, you can stabilize the oyster while opening it by placing it on a dishcloth.)

Third, practice. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. I hope you like the video.

 

 

I bought a dozen and a half oysters today, and ate most of them for lunch with Santa Maria. I have six left over now, and I’m thinking about making a tomato-based oyster chowder. Anyone have any suggestions?

 

All American Oyster Chowder Recipe

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Oyster_chowder
I miss the kind of meals I made before I had children, when I cooked for sport. It was always fun to try something new, and if a dish didn’t work out, there was still a very good chance that everyone would enjoy themselves all the same. Temper tantrums were confined to the kitchen, and dinners never ended in tears (shouts, maybe, but not tears).

Once, for New Years, I tried my hand at the Moroccan pigeon pie called pastilla. I had fallen in love with the sweet-and-savory dish on a trip to Fez a long time ago, and I wanted to make it at home. I hunted around for a source for pigeon, gave up, and settled on chicken. I had no trouble finding phyllo dough for the crust. Working with the dough was a different story, and I did something very wrong—the pastilla turned out as dry as the Sahara.

No one complained, though, and we just moved on to the next course. I can’t risk such things these days. It’s just no fun for me if my girls don’t eat. I tend to stick to the tried and true, and, after making breakfasts, lunches, and dinner, I don’t have the energy to try anything new.

At times, though, it can’t be avoided. On Saturday, I stopped my favorite fishmongers, Blue Moon Fish, at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket. I asked the clerk for a dozen small oysters. After I got home, I discovered that he’d given me six small ones (which Santa Maria and I slurped down that day), and six very large ones that were just far to big for me to eat on the half shell. I needed to find something to do with the oysters.

Chowder was the first thing to come to mind, but when I consulted a few cookbooks, I realized that I was in a slightly strange position. All the recipes for chowder called for a couple of dozen of them. I had but six.

I decided to improvise. When I did my weekly shop on Monday, I made sure to get things I might like to put in the soup. I bought blue potatoes, because I thought they’d look cool. Heavy cream, because that seemed vital. Bacon and celery, because you can’t loose with those.

I had half a red onion in the refrigerator. Red onion. White cream. Blue potato.  All American chowder! Why not? At this point I should issue a disclaimer. There are those who quite correctly challenge the quality of online recipes. The one I’m about to offer was tested just once, tonight. In its defense, I have to say it was delicious. Santa Maria concurs (in fact, her enthusiasm for it validated all my efforts, though she insisted on more salt).

I made the soup while getting the kids ready for bed. I started by softening the onion and rendering the bacon in a small pot. Then I ran down the hall to check on the kids. They were setting up a game in their bedroom. I dashed back to the kitchen and cut up the celery. I returned to their room. Everything was okay, but they wanted me to play with them. I said I would, in a second. “I’m making oyster chowder,” I told them as I ran off, suddenly realizing my folly.

I could make the chowder anytime, but I could only play with them at that very moment. I said I’d be right back. I quickly diced the blue potato and tossed it in the pot. I wasn’t sure about how to cook the potato (which would take a long time) and the oysters (which would take a short time), so I brought it to a boil with a little water. Then I turned it off and joined the children in their room.

We played for a while, then I did the whole bedtime routine in record time. Brushed their teeth, sat down to read their books. Santa Maria was on her way home, and I had to text her to tell her that I was a bit ahead of schedule. I think the chowder was calling me.

After the kids were in bed, I opened the oysters (with a lot of effort), chopped them up, and added them, along with a bit of cream and milk and thyme to the pot and simmered if for a few minutes.

It was creamy and delicious, and easy enought that I'll consider making it more often. Unlike the pastilla, it was a complete success. So much so that it made it hard for me to move on to the rest of my dinner, a more mundane plate of rice and beans, chicken, and spinach. 

All American Oyster Chowder

  • 1/2 red onion, diced
  • 1/2 slice bacon, diced
  • 1/2 stalk celery, diced
  • 1 small blue potato, diced
  • 6 large oysters, opened, juice reserved, and chopped
  • 2 oz heavy cream
  • 2 oz whole milk
  • thyme and salt and pepper, to taste

In a small pot, sauté the onion, bacon, and celery until the onion is soft and the bacon fat is rendered.

Add the potato and just enough water to cover them.

Bring to a boil and simmer until the potatoes are soft.

Add the oysters, cream, milk, and thyme.

Bring to a boil and simmer for a few minutes.

Oysters Save the Day

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Oysters
This weekend I took charge of the children. Santa Maria was facing a major work deadline, and I told her that I would take care of things around the house. For me, this meant planning lunches and dinner. Saturday, I went to the greenmarket for fish. Flounder for dinner that night. Clams for dinner the next. Oysters for me.

Weekend lunches bedevil me. I reach my mental capacity planning two or three meals at a time. For Saturday lunch, I punted, and took the girls out to eat.

We’ve never been big on restaurants, partially because of the expense, and partially because I can cook better food at home than I can get at the restaurants I can afford. I’m not talking about a Per Se level of expense (though that was fun and memorable, from the black salt from Molokai to getting to drink my wine flight and most of Santa Maria's, the one time we went a few years ago and spent about a month’s rent on a meal), but I’d have to spend at least $75 a head to start tasting things that couldn’t come out of my kitchen.

There’s another reason we don’t eat out very often. Our children don’t really know how to behave in a restaurant. Once, while visiting the grandparents, I watched my preschool nieces and nephews sit patiently at a table at the Olive Garden while we pored over the menus. My kids didn’t know what to do with themselves. They wandered over to check out the food on other tables and gaze at the baffled diners.  Pinta began squealing and chasing Nina. Breadsticks became daggers. I’d like to think that they were protesting the chain restaurant (which is what I felt like doing), but the truth is less appealing. Because we eat at home, they haven’t had a chance to learn what do to while eating out.

We’re working on teaching them how to behave in a restaurant, and the only real opportunity we have to do so involves pizza. It’s the absolute surefire thing that they will both eat. And it’s best if I don’t make the pizza, as the one time I tried, I didn’t exactly succeed. A pizzeria is not necessarily the best school, however.

Our favorite low-priced option, Roma Pizza, is a typical slice joint, without waiter service (which is why we like it). The neighborhood’s go-to family pizza place, Two Boots, knows its clientele too well: kids are encouraged to run to the kitchen window, where the pizza makers toss raw dough to the kids to play with while they wait.

Campo de Fiori, which opened recently, is different. It serves slices, but they are unlike any other slices you will find in Brooklyn. Most New York City pizza is Neopolitan, round with a thin crust. Their pizza is Roman, square with a crisp but thick and airy crust.  The dough is made in Rome, frozen, and then flown to Brooklyn, where it is baked and topped with extremely fresh ingredients. Everything at the place tastes like what I would like to cook with at home. My favorite is the matriciana, full of smoky bacon and spicy tomato sauce.

I love the food at Campo de Fiori, but there’s another aspect of it that I like even more. The restaurant has a relaxed elegance. The décor is crisp, clean, and unassuming. The owners, Andrea and Yari, are welcoming hosts. I get to sit with my girls while they practice proper restaurant behavior. Andrea and Yari don’t use plastic cups. They have nice glasses. They serve the slices on little wooden planks. These little touches add up to a nice experience for me, and the girls. And apparently, I have a lot to learn myself about the Campo de Fiori. This New York Times review focuses on the pastas and other dishes that I have yet to try.

There’s one small point that makes it complicated for me to eat pizza, especially pizza as fancy and expensive as that at Campo de Fiori. It’s never really filling enough for me, unless I eat six or so pieces.

So, to prepare for my latest visit, I prepared a little snack before hand. I had six raw oysters from the Greenmarket. Raw oysters are one of life’s greatest pleasures, and they are very easy to make at home. The ones I ate on Saturday were the sweetest tasting ones I’ve ever had. I ate them in a rush, standing in my kitchen. I found a great video from Coastal Living magazine that explains how to open them. It is really very simple.