Oyster Ice Cream

There are lots of popular culinary combinations or dishes that, when first mentioned, likely seemed senseless or even disgusting.  Breakfast sausage with maple syrup, pepperoni pizza dipped in ranch, peanut butter & jelly.  Now, they're as American as apple pie (topped with cheddar cheese, of course).  Odd pairings or preparations like these span the globe and history, too.  Prosciutto & melon, chicken & waffles, cold beef & buckwheat noodles, watermelon & feta salad, a bloody caesar's mix of tomato & clam juices.  Surf & turf was once the focus of aspersive eyes, and I bet many unfamiliar still question the centuries old combination of chocolate & chile pepper in mole negro.  Hell, even salted caramel ice cream was bizarre and relatively novel in the early 2000's mainstream.  Now it's arguably one of the most popular flavors around.

Oyster Ice Cream from Oysome
via In a Halfshell

Oysters have been going through a renaissance of sorts in the last few decades.  So, when you hear "oyster ice cream," you might think it's some whacky hipster invention that's pushed the oyster revival a bit too far.  "Oyster ice cream?!?  The leftist woke mind virus is destroying this country!  What's next?!?  Men dressed as women eating salmon sorbet in girls' bathrooms?!?"  Just jokes - much like our current president and administration.  However, the reality is quite the opposite.  Oyster ice cream has a deep, rich history in the United States.

Ice cream, in one form or another, has been around for millenia.  Unfortunately, like so many foods, its beginnings are full of myth, lore, and hotly contested debate.  Evidence of Persians, Greeks, Egyptians, Chinese, and Romans mixing fruit, milk, rice, or honey with snow goes back thousands of years.  Ice cream, like so many historic creations that are often misattributed elsewhere, was likely invented in China.  There are records from the Tang Dynasty (618 - 907 A.D) of milk being cooked with flour and spices, frozen, and served as a sweet treat for the elite.  Whether by the Silk Road, Marco Polo, or other means, this practice made its way to Europe over the next few centuries.  It eventually started being refined to versions we'd be more familiar with today.  This mostly happened in the royal courts or aristocratic houses of Italy and France in the 16th and 17th centuries, and gradually spread to nobility across Europe.  For most of history, ice cream has been a labor and resource intensive product, thus enjoyed primarily by the rich.  Such was the case in ice cream making its way to the Americas, with the first recorded instance being at a dinner held by Maryland's Colonial Governor in 1744.

19th Century Oyster & Ice Cream Vendors

Oyster ice cream, on the other had, doesn't have much formal record until the 19th century.  But that doesn't stop the myth and lore, yet again.  Some say it was George Washington's favorite, as well as First Lady Dolly Madison's.  Others say Mark Twain loved it so much he wrote about it in Tom Sawyer.  There are even claims that it was served at the First Thanksgiving, which is down right comedic to think.  None of this is true, or at least there's no record to verify.  However, it is true that a relative of Thomas Jefferson named Mary Randolph wrote the first recorded recipe for oyster ice cream in 1824's The Virginia Housewife.  The book was so popular that it was republished twenty times before the Civil War, arguably making Randolph one of America's first celebrity chefs.  The Virginia Housewife is also recognized as America's very first Southern cookbook.  Contemporary chefs still praise her innovation to this day. 

      Now, there has been a lot of analysis and opinion about Mary Randolph, her cookbook, and Antebellum cuisine in general.  That deep discussion is admittedly beyond the scope of my arm-chair historical research.  However, there are two things I find quite curious about Mary Randolph and the earliest record of oyster ice cream.

First, it feels a bit inappropriate to credit Randolph with oyster ice cream in any capacity, or even much Southern cuisine in general.  Sure, she recorded it, codified it, hosted dinner parties with it, maybe even cooked a bit at her luxurious boarding house.  But coming from one of early America's most prominent and affluent Southern families, I think we can be honest and say that Mary primarily had slaves cook for her and her guests.  Her book even presupposes that the reader has a staff of cooks and servants.  "We have no right to expect slaves or hired servants to be more attentive to our interests than we ourselves are; nor can it be supposed that persons of ordinary capacity will perform their duties with punctuality or exactness, unless they know they are subject to frequent inspection."  This is a direct quote from The Virginia Housewife.  

18th century portrait often mistakenly
identified as Hercules Posey

This is an upsetting and uncomfortable paradox we run into when trying to celebrate Antebellum history, culture, and cuisine.  I certainly romanticize hearth baked peach cobbler or sweet tea on the porch as much as anyone.  But the reality is that most of this rich culinary history stems from enslaved chefs.  We know much of Martha Washington's celebrated cookery comes straight from her and George's slave, Hercules Posey.  We also know Thomas Jefferson's slave, James Hemings, was culinarily trained in Paris and influenced much of Mary Randolph's record.  Affluent women of the day were subjugated too, largely powerless beyond homemaking.  So it feels a bit weird to knock Mary Randolph, Martha Washington, or other women of the day.  But that subjugation pales in comparison to that experienced by the enslaved in America, often at the hands of those same homemaking women.  What I do know is that credit is due to the African American slaves who largely shaped Southern cuisine, and that just might include oyster ice cream.

Second, the original oyster ice cream wasn't exactly what we think of when it comes to ice cream.  Mary Randolph's recipe is simply "make a rich oyster soup, strain it, freeze it."  Her recipe for oyster soup included onions, ham, salt, pepper, and thyme.  Safe to say it wasn't the dulcet delight we know ice cream to be today.   At the time, ice cream had a broader culinary application than it generally does now, and savory variations were quite common.  Parmesan, asparagus, artichoke, spinach, and cucumber ice creams are all well documented from the Colonial and Victorian eras.  Randoph's book even has a calf's hoof ice cream recipe.  Ice cream was still a pretty new concept, and thus, experimental.  It was often served as a palate cleanser or mid-course at opulent dinners, as well as a sweet dessert.  Chefs making dill pickle or everything bagel ice cream today might think they're breaking the mold, but there's already a few hundred years of precedent.

Mary Randolph's Oyster Ice Cream Recipe from The Virginia Housewife - 1824

Japanese Oyster Ice Cream via TokyoTreat

That said, I'm an American kid of the 90's and to me, ice cream is a sweet treat or dessert.  I'm as adventurous as the next guy, often more, particularly when trying out historic seafood recipes.   Candidly though, icey oyster stew didn't sound like my cup of tea, or scoop of ice cream, rather.  However, I could see a sweet oyster ice cream working.  Salty and sweet pair well, and there are several ice cream examples in salted caramel, vanilla in pretzel cones, even olive oil ice cream topped with fleur de sel.  Sweet oyster ice cream is also nothing new.  Vanilla soft serve paired with deep fried oysters has taken Japan by storm over the last decade.  There are also some establishments Stateside who've been making it for the last few years.  For my own homemade version, I largely took my inspiration from Oysome out of Ireland.
 
SF Oyster Nerd Oyster Ice Cream

I picked up some stewing oysters in their liquor from Hill's Quality Seafood, as well as some heavy cream and sweetened condensed milk from Whole Paycheck.  They've always got that rich, bougie heavy cream in a glass bottle.  You know, the kind that reminds you of the pastoral 1950s when milkmen delivered weekly to your front porch, past your white picket fence and tire swing.  Another paradoxical time to romanticize.  I'm not terribly keen on $11 a pint cream, but when making a mostly cream based soup, it's 100% worth it.  A great oyster stew is simple with few ingredients - oysters, oyster liquor, and cream.  A little salt, a little pepper, maybe an herb.  That's it.  Chef Mark Franz taught me that, literally while spoon-feeding me his version in front of a dozen patrons dining at Waterbar's oyster bar.  Dude is a legend, and truly dgaf.  I once watched him take a bite out of a white Alba truffle like it was an apple.

Anyway, I brought equal parts oyster liquor and cream to a simmer with salt and pepper to taste and a bit of thyme.  I then added the dozen stewing oysters to cook and infuse more oyster flavor.  Once the oysters were cooked and the taste was right, I strained everything and set the soup to the side to chill.  Don't worry, the oysters didn't go to waste.  They were a nice lunch when mixed with some chives and topped on some Ritz crackers.  I then mixed two parts oyster soup with one part whole milk and one part sweetened condensed milk.  Your boy doesn't have have a fancy ice cream churner on hand or a stockpile of liquid nitrogen in the basement, so I couldn't make a classic style ice cream.  However, my niece went through a smoothie / sorbet craze a few years ago, and I was able to borrow her Ninja Creami.  As such, I loosely followed some suggested recipes and ended up on a 2-1-1 ratio of oyster soup, whole milk, and condensed milk.  The mixture then went into the freezer to set for 24 hours before getting Ninja Creamified into ice cream.

While waiting, I figured I'd make some oyster appropriate toppings for my ice cream.  First thought was the classic pairing of oysters and citrus.  Raw oysters are almost always served with lemons or limes, as their sharp acidity compliments oysters' rich brininess.  Luckily, I had a bag of limes on hand, and decided to make candied lime rinds.  I peeled the limes, taking as little pith with the rinds as possible.  I sliced the peels thin, blanched them for 30 minutes or so to remove some bitterness, then cooked them down in some simple syrup for another 30 minutes.  Strained and cooled, I tossed them in some sugar and voila - candied limes.  Another classic pairing is oysters and stout, specifically Guinness.  It goes back centuries in Ireland, as both oysters and Guinness were widely available to the working class, and is still celebrated across the globe today.  Stout's roasty bitterness goes well with oysters' salty minerality.  There's even an oyster & Guinness flavored potato chip.  So, I decided to make a Guinness caramel sauce.  I reduced a can of Guinness by half on medium heat, then added in brown sugar and vanilla extract.  Ten minutes later, I removed it from the heat and whisked in heavy cream and butter.  Then, jarred and into the fridge to chill it went.

The next day, it was time to churn.  I have to say the Ninja Creami is a breeze to use.  I simply took out the frozen oyster cream base, plugged it into the machine, and selected "Ice Cream" mode.  Two minutes later, I had a rich, smooth, oyster ice cream.  The texture was spot on.  How did it taste, though?  I tried it straight up to start.  Imagine a sea wave hit your vanilla ice cream cone, then you took a lick.  It's like that, but a bit gamier. Not for the faint of oceanic heart, as it definitely had notes of savory low tide.  But if you like oyster stuffing, scalloped oysters, even oysters Rockefeller, this is a novel taste I think you'd enjoy.  The interesting thing was that the oyster flavor mellowed with time.  It was pretty intense when I ate it on day one, but more and more muted on each following day.  My neighbor tried it on day five and said it was very faintly oyster flavored. 



However, when I added the toppings to the oyster ice cream on day one, it really came to life.  The buttery, briny ice cream was cut by the roasty, slightly bitter Guinness caramel, and the candied lime rinds added an acidic brightness with a crystalized, sugary crunch.  Together, it was an indulgent, peculiar, and overall pleasant bite.  Definitely not a two scoop or milk shake type of ice cream, but a curiosity I was happy I'd explored.  Who knows, with some more trial and error, you may just see The SF Oyster Nerd's Oyster Ice Cream in a market near you soon 😜.    

Cheers,
The SF Oyster Nerd