Thomas Downing: Oysterman and Abolitionist

I don't care for Black History Month.  Just hear me out.  Denoting a specific month where we single out the contributions of any community, in any capacity, will forever keep those contributions separate and marginalized.  I agree with the sentiments and foundations, but we can all see the execution, or lack there of, has not lead to equitable representation.  Lumping all these figures together under one banner for a short 28 days is also a disservice to their individual merits, and often excludes commendable others.  Both the accomplishments and tribulations of African Americans need to be woven into the fabric of our entire historical perspective, culture, and curriculum.  Matter of fact, in many instances, that history is the fabric.  I recently listened to an interview with Stephen Satterfield, food writer and host of High on the Hog, in which he was asked if African Americans were finally getting appropriate recognition for their contributions to American cuisine and culinary history.  Satterfield humbly said that wasn't the correct way to view it, because many of those individuals were the creators of the cuisine, not just contributors.  I think this echoes beyond just food and to American history in its entirety. 

Thomas Downing - courtesy of New York Public
Library via The Virginia Pilot

Now, obviously, I don't actually dislike Black History Month.  Saying that is definitely provocative for provocation's sake.  Eye-catching.  Attention-grabbing.  Intentionally drawing ire from the reader.  I'm sure there's a formal literary term or phrase for it with which I'm not familiar.  What I'm saying is nothing new, though, already having been widely debated and discussed for decades.  And as a white, American male, my addressing this topic is rather questionable from the start, particularly through the lens of an oyster blog.  If I knew how to change the presentation of the American narrative to be more equitably, and deservedly, representative of those who have been marginalized, I certainly wouldn't be writing about seafood for my twenty-odd readers.  It's not even my place to do so.  My role is to listen and support how we can effect appropriate change.  More importantly, my role is to teach my children to do the same, just better than I have.

The sad irony of my writing this just after Black History Month is truly demonstrative of how desperately we still need it.  Virtue signaling TikToks and Tweets about Frederick Douglas or the Tuskegee Airmen were part of what inspired this post.  We need Black History Month and other dedicated months of observance to reignite these conversations regularly, keeping the difficult dialogues around historical and contemporary inequity at the forefronts of our minds.  So, in reality, I guess I really do like Black History Month, but optimistically and confidently look forward to a day when it's no longer necessary.

Modern day 5 Broad Street in NYC where
Downing's Oyster House once stood - via MAAP

With all that said, I wanted to use this post to briefly explore Thomas Downing, an icon of both American abolitionist and oyster history.  Downing was born 1791 in Chincoteague, a small coastal town on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  His parents were freed slaves, as their land-owner had been convinced by a traveling preacher that no Methodist could be a member of the church and a slave-owner.  Downing was raised tending to the land his parents owned, and no doubt became an astute oysterman from the rich oyster beds around Chincoteague.  Many freed slaves actually owned oyster and fishing businesses, as "discrimination was generally slacker" on the waves.  He joined the U.S. Army during the War of 1812, which eventually brought him to Philadelphia, where he managed an oyster bar for several years. 

Somewhere in 1819, Downing moved to New York.  Economic opportunity was much greater in New York, as many taverns, dance halls, tailors, and other businesses were acceptably owned and operated by Black men.  Staten Island would even become home to one of the oldest free Black settlements in the United States, Sandy Ground, founded in 1828. New York was also the "Big Oyster" at the time and the epicenter of all things on the half shell.  With Downing's oyster acumen, the move made perfect sense.  He purchased a small skiff and began harvesting and selling the highest quality oysters.  His reputation as a keen oyster purveyor quickly grew, and in 1825, he opened Downing's Oyster House at 5 Broad St. in the heart of New York City's financial district. 

Downing Pickled Oyster Jar
Courtesy of NY Historical Society

Oyster houses, or cellars and refectories as they were known, were ubiquitous in New York in the 1800s, and oysters were a food for for every color and class.  Black, white, rich, poor - everyone ate oysters.  However, most oyster cellars were more akin to modern day dive bars, frequented by denizens of moral turpitude.  Several oyster cellars even doubled as brothels.  Downing's was different, and his location in the financial district was no accident.  It was one of the first fine-dining establishments in New York, brimming with glass chandeliers, fine curtains, plush carpets, ornate dishes and flatware.  Politicians, aristocrats, businessmen, police chiefs, merchants, and high society fat cats frequented Downing's Oyster House.  Women could even respectably patron and be seen at the oyster house, something almost unheard of at the time.  Contemporary accounts raved about his raw, stewed, fried, pickled and scalloped oysters.  Downing's business, affluence, and status grew, so much that he was invited to serve Charles Dickens at the Boz Ball in 1842.  He even shipped oysters to Queen Victoria in England, who was reportedly such a fan that she sent him a gold watch as thanks.  Downing's Oyster House became a New York landmark, and Downing became the Oyster King of New York.

It's important to keep in mind that slavery was only formally abolished in New York in 1827, two years after Downing opened his oyster cellar.  Even with slavery outlawed in the state, escaping slaves from the South were fiercely tracked down by bounty hunters throughout the city.  And while there were many free Black men and women in New York City, discrimination, segregation, and inequity were still systemic and pervasive.  Sadly, this can still be said of today in many ways.  Downing's achievements were in spite of these adversities.  He may be celebrated as a wealthy oyster magnate, but his true accomplishments were in fighting for civil rights.  In 1836, Downing helped found the Anti-Slavery Society of the City of New York, advocating for the abolition of slavery nationwide.  He financed fights against fugitive slave laws and petitioned the New York legislature for equal voting rights.  The African Free School received continuous funding from Downing.  He even fought to desegregate New York transit, being beaten after refusing to deboard a trolley and concurrently suing the driver in 1838.  This was well over 100 years before Rosa Parks.  Most notably, Downing's Oyster House was a key stop on the Underground Railroad.  He hid hundreds of escaping slaves in his basement while en route to Canada and freedom.  All this while the very police officers and politicians tasked with enforcing fugitive slave laws, none the wiser, fattened themselves and Downing's pockets above.  He wielded his wealth, influence, and prestige for African American education, equality, and freedom.

Downing's Oyster House on The NYC Freedom Trail Map

Downing became an official U.S. citizen on April 9, 1866, along with thousands of other African Americans, through one of the first Civil Rights Acts.  Unfortunately, he passed away the following day on April 10, 1866.  Thousands attended his funeral, and his stature in the community was so great, that even the New York Chamber of Commerce closed for the day in his observance.  He died one of the richest men in New York, not just financially, but meritoriously through his resolute fight for equal rights and freedoms.  Much of what he fought for would not come to fruition until after his passing, such as the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments, guaranteeing equal protection and voting rights.  However, Downing's actions and advocacy paved the way for these milestones, and will hopefully continue to inspire those we still need.  

Thomas Downing was renowned for many things, most of which I have no place or chance at venerating in a modest blog post.   However, two of his most famous were pickled oysters and oyster pan roasts, at least culinarily speaking.  So, I decided to try my own version of this oyster pan roast, a Downing-inspired dish served at the National Museum of African American History in Washington D.C.  An oyster pan roast is somewhere in the realm of oyster stew, bisque, or soup - just a bit more concentrated with some added spice.  It's basically oysters, oyster liquor, cream, and seasoning.  The dish, or a variation at least, seems to have been around for ages, probably inspired centuries back by classic French cooking techniques. Grand Central Oyster Bar's in New York is the most prevalent, and has been on the menu since 1913.  Doane's Oyster House in Olympia, Washington had a famous one back in the late 1800s.  Pan roasts are also very popular in Las Vegas of all places.  I'm very curious of those origins, but that's another blog post, perhaps. 

1961 New York Times Cookbook
Grand Central Oyster Pan Roast Recipe

True pan roasts are apparently made in stainless steel or aluminum steam-jacketed kettles. The kettle kind of acts like a double boiler with concentrated steam accelerating the cooking process of the other ingredients so the oysters and cream do not overcook.  Some chefs claim you can't even make a good pan roast without one. Even the 1961 New York Times Cookbook says a "real McCoy" pan roast requires this piece of equipment, and other pan roasts are just domestic "variations."  I don't own a steam-jacketed kettle, nor could I shell out the hundreds of dollars to obtain one.  As this would be a humble pan roast for one, my bachelor-sized cast iron pan would have to do.   
   

Oyster Pan Roast Ingredients

After grabbing a few stewing oysters from Hill's Seafood, I found myself solo with the kids napping on a casual Wednesday afternoon.  Perfect time for a personal pan roast lunch.  I busted out the cast iron pan and started into the ingredients.  Diced shallots, chopped thyme, heavy cream, chives, Worcestershire sauce - all the classic components of an oyster stew.  I had a little pancetta on hand, which I thought would be nice addition.  As I always say, salty pig parts and shellfish are a brilliant pairing.  As for the spice, Heinz chili sauce was the dogmatic standard in most recipes I'd read.  Heinz chili sauce isn't a staple in my cupboard, so I went with a combination of HP brown sauce and Louisiana hot sauce.  They would respectively bring the tang and the heat the chili sauce traditionally delivers. 

I started by rendering and crisping the pancetta, then removing it from the pan.  I added in some butter and the shallots to the pancetta fat to brown.  Next came oyster liquor, thyme and the hot, HP, and Worcestershire sauces to reduce.  Shortly thereafter, in went the oysters.  I held them back a bit as they would have overcooked had I added them at the same time as the other ingredients (no steam-jacketed kettle, remember).  Finally, in went the cream and I consistently stirred to bring it all together, never allowing the cream to go beyond a slight bubble.      

Bayard Rustin Oyster Pan Roast

I pulled the cast iron pan roast from the stove, topped it with the chives and crispy pancetta, and dug right in with a slice of toasted ciabatta.  It was great - smooth, buttery, and briny.  The HP sauce added distinct tang with a hint of sweetness, and the hot sauce provided a peppery kick.  I would like to make this again with the Heinz chili sauce for comparison, but this version wasn't wanting for much.  And the cook on the oysters was spot on too, hitting that perfect middle ground of toothsome bite while still being rich and luscious.  Who says you need a stainless steel steam-jacketed kettle for the perfect pan roast?  I beg to differ.  The only thing I could imagine that would be better is sitting down at Downing's Oyster House and enjoying an oyster pan roast from the legend himself.  The next time you're enjoying some oysters, or even just going about your normal day, I hope Thomas Downing and his story come to mind.  

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd

Source materials (not limited to):

The Virginia Pilot

The Big Oyster

Food52

The Oyster's My World

NC State History News
The Splendid Table

Shuckin' & Cluckin' - Oysters & Eggs

With my first year officially in the suburbs complete, I can comfortably admit I've gone full-on domesticated dad.  Weekly trips to Ace Hardware, YouTube videos on light fixture installation, and hours scouring the internets for the best soil and mulch mixtures.  Tom and Patti at our local garden center even feel like my new best friends.  The creepy algorithmic content trackers have definitely noticed, too.  Every third Instagram post I see is "you may qualify for free solar panels" or "check out this new BBQ kit, only $49.99."  It really hit me the other day when I audibly slammed the door my fiancé had left open.  "Are we trying to heat the whole neighborhood!?"  But honestly, I couldn't be happier.  I'm embracing it head on - Costco membership, John Deere mower, t-shirt tucked into my cargo shorts - everything.   

Oyster shell paved garden path
#oystershellrecycling

The first major dad venture was building a raised bed vegetable garden.  At the end of the first growing season, I think I can say it went pretty well.  A few successes, a few failures, and plenty of fresh, "free produce" at the modest cost of scores of labor hours and hundreds of dollars in equipment.  It is a tasty, rewarding, and therapeutic endeavor, though.  I kept wanting to incorporate oysters into our gardening somehow, and work it into a blog post.  Unfortunately, beyond paving the garden path with oyster shells, nothing really came to mind.  If you've got any ideas, please do share.  

In tandem with our homegrown vegetables, we frequently discussed getting our own chickens.  Few things can beat fresh eggs straight from your backyard, I imagine.  Admittedly, I nixed the idea as I know what nasty little beasts they can be from past experience.  That, and I can already see my 2 year old harassing them non-stop.  The family of foxes in the woods behind our house would be pretty happy if we had them, too.  However, our neighbors have a whole flock of chickens and kindly share some eggs from time to time. They are quite delicious, and we've made plenty of breakfasts and baked goods with them. 

This got me thinking of the hangtown fry (an omelette with oysters, spinach, and bacon, originally from the SF Bay Area) that I'd explored over a decade ago.  What other ways could oysters and eggs come together?  As my desire to connect oysters and gardening had yet to materialize, why not use the next closest thing: homegrown eggs?  Lady Oyster shared a fascinating post on how she strengthens her chickens' eggs by putting crushed up oyster shell in their feed.  Also, as this is an "oyster blog" and my previous five posts had been mostly oyster-less, I needed to get back to my roots.  Nothing but oysters on this round.  And while definitely not a common pairing (at least in Western cooking), oysters and eggs just might work if exeggcuted correctly.  Don't worry, plenty more egg puns to come.  I did some research, came up with a few ideas, and delved into crackin' and shuckin'.  Who's eggcited!?!  

Buffalo Oyster Deviled Eggs

Wingswept Acres Eggs

The adjective "deviled" before any food item has always intrigued me.  The first instance of deviled in reference to food appeared in British print in 1786, and the term was quickly adopted in American vernacular by the early 19th century.  Deviled clams, deviled ham, deviled crabs, even deviled oysters are a thing.  Then there's Mexican camarones a la diabla and Italian fra diavolo sauce.  And, of course, most prominently, we have deviled eggs.  While there are various methods of stuffing, breading, saucing, etc. to be found in deviled recipes, they all have that common, obvious element: well-seasoned and spicy.  Appropriate nomenclature, right?  For my first oyster and egg mashup, I couldn't think of a better starting point than my own favorite well-seasoned and spicy style: buffalo.  Additional disclosure: I worked at a San Francisco oyster bar, Leo's, for a while, and they served a deviled egg topped with a wing-fried oyster.  It was the most popular item on the menu.  Best to start with a surefire hit.  My wacky oyster-eggscapade needed some confirmation bias and confidence building.  

 

I hard boiled five extra large eggs from Wingswept Acres, a Berks County farm that's a weekly staple at our local farmers market.  They're pricey, but worth it.  Eggs are a "get what you pay for" food item, and I've always found the dollar or two more you spend per dozen is completely justified in terms of quality.  All that non-GMO, organic fed, pasture raised, did-the-chicken-have-friends stuff aside, they're just better tasting eggs.  I also do have a heart and believe all our livestock should be treated ethically and respectfully.  You can literally taste the sadness in those bootleg sweatshop eggs.

Top left clockwise: egg prep, deviled eggs pre-oyster,
cornmeal fried oysters, buffalo dressing oysters

Anyway, with the eggs cooked and peeled, I sliced them, removed the yolks, and moved on to the deviled filling.  I made some mayo with another egg, lemon juice, and canola oil; then mixed in the yolks, hot sauce, ranch, Worcestershire sauce, and some diced celery.  The result was a tasty, but standard, buffalo deviled egg mixture.  I wanted a more dynamic oyster-egg marriage.  So, I shucked the dozen Sweet Amalia Oysters I'd received from Fishadelphia and added some of the oyster liquor to the filling.  The addition loosened the mixture a bit, but brought a slight oceanic salinity that would tie in the fried oyster nicely.  I stuffed the eggs and into the fridge they went to chill.   

As for the fried oysters, I wanted to stay classic.  I've done some crazy versions of buffalo oysters in the past, but this one had to be textbook.  I gave the oysters a quick dredge in some rather culturally insensitive Indian Head Yellow Corn Meal  (perhaps they'll re-brand as Guardians' or Commanders' Corn Meal).  The oysters went into 350°F canola oil for 2-3 minutes until golden brown and out they came.  I melted some butter, mixed in ample amounts of Frank's Red Hot, and gave the oysters a toss.  Final step, compilation. 

Buffalo Oyster Deviled Eggs

I grabbed the chilled deviled eggs, which had set and firmed up nicely, and topped each with its own buffalo fried oyster.  I added some chives and thinly sliced celery, garnished with lemon and celery leaves to make it all pretty, and dove right in.  I don't mind saying they tasted speggtacular.  I expected as much since two of my favorite flavors are buffalo and brine.  The rich, buttery egg had a great tang from the ranch and hot sauce, and contrasted well with the crunch from the fried oyster and diced celery.  A great dish for your next Super Bowl party with some culinarily adventurous guests, and a great start to my own oyster and egg adventure.

"Scotch Egg" Oysters

Classic Scotch Egg from ScotchTails,
formerly in London's Borough Market 

Scotch eggs have made a real resurgence on the American culinary scene the last few years.  British cuisine has in general.  I'm not quite sure why.  Maybe because it's delicious, despite the frequent disparaging stereotypes you hear.  It could be the meteoric rise of British chefs like April Bloomfield, Gordon Ramsey, and Jamie Oliver.  Or it could be a organic extension of the gastropub and micro-brew renaissance we've seen the last decade.  Beer and British food, after all, are a natural pairing.  Either way, being an unapologetic Anglophile, I'm pretty happy about it.  When it comes to scotch eggs, doubly so.  

As for the scotch egg's history, it's a contentious one, to say the least.  Some believe it was created in a London department store, others say its from Whitby in Northeast England.  Then there are claims it originates from an Indian dish, while others argue various North African dishes.  The only things that seem to be agreed upon are 1) it's definitely not from Scotland, and 2) it's a damn tasty dish.  So when thinking of oyster and egg dishes, a scotch egg oyster immediately came to mind.  The texture of a soft to medium boiled egg, as desired for a scotch egg, is pretty similar to that of a larger, poached or steamed oyster.  And as shellfish and salty pig parts are always a brilliant match, an oyster wrapped in pork sausage and deep fried sounded deleggtable.

Top left clockwise: ingredient prep, forming
the scotch egg oysters, breading, deep frying

I picked up some pre-shucked, extra large MeTompkin Chesapeake oysters from Hill's Seafood, my local fish market.  I'm usually a proponent of shell to table, as in shucking your own.  However, the scotch egg undertaking required uniform, extra large oyster meats - so large they'd be difficult to find retailed in the shell.  Also, even though this may seem sacrilegious, I've often found freshly jarred oysters from reputable establishments to be fine, if not better, for some cooked oyster preparations.  Give them a try.  Or egg-off with your sanctimony if you feel otherwise ;)   

I lightly poached the oysters, thirty seconds or so, just to firm them up for handling.  I'd also bought some English style bangers from Dundore and Heister, a sausage maker in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania that wholesales to local markets around Philadelphia.  I removed the sausage from the casings and mixed it up with some chopped thyme, just to add some fresh aromatics and color.  Well, honestly, thyme was pretty much all that remained of my garden come mid-November, and I had to use some homegrown ingredients, right?  The sausage was then rolled into balls, flattened into patties, and the oysters neatly tucked in to form the scotch egg oysters. Next step was your standard breading procedure: flour dredge, egg wash, then breadcrumb coating, Panko in this instance.  With some vegetable oil at 375°F, it was finally time to fry.   

"Scotch Egg" Oysters

The end result was identical to a scotch egg in its crispy, golden-brown ovular sphere.  You'll notice what was once five scotch egg oysters became four when finished.  I lost one to the oil overheating and browning the outside before the sausage had fully cooked through.  It was disappointing to slice open and see a pink center.  Nobody likes medium rare sausage.  Lesson learned and the other four came out spot on.  I sliced one for presentation, then plated them up with some lemon, thyme, and parsley for garnish.  As for a condiment, you typically see creamy or spicy mustard sauces with scotch eggs.  However, I've got a soft spot for the classic British HP Brown Sauce.  It's like a tangier, Worcestershire flavored ketchup, and they put it on practically everything in the UK.  As for the scotch egg oysters themselves, they weren't eggsactly what I'd hoped for.  Unquestionably good, as most deep fried things are, but the sausage completely overwhelmed the oyster.  It was more like eating sausage nuggets with a muted, low-tide surprise in the middle.  You got the texture of the oyster a little, but that was about it.  Perhaps I'll try again using more mildly flavored sausage and less of it.  But hey, it was a pretty fun and tasty experiment, nonetheless.       

Oyster Chawanmushi (牡蠣茶碗蒸し)

Oyster Omelette (Orh Luak) in 
Singapore - courtesy of @jamietan04 

Pairing oysters and eggs is pretty common in Asian cooking.  Every country or region seems to have its own version of egg and batter fried oysters or an oyster omelette.  There's Gul Jeon (굴전) in Korea and Hoi Thod (หอยทอด) in Thailand, both crispy fried oyster pancakes.  Then, there are countless oyster omelettes throughout Malaysia, Hong Kong, the Philippines, and Singapore, many believed to have originated from the Fujian province in China with the Hokkien diaspora.  In Taiwan, it's even considered an unofficial national dish.  All are highly celebrated staples of hawkers and night markets.  Grossly overgeneralizing, they're basically oysters and eggs pan fried with a starchy batter and served with rich or spicy sauces and toppings.  Between the intimidating array of varieties and my overall ignorance to them, I knew I couldn't do the world of Asian street-style oyster omelettes any justice in a single dish.  They're deserving of their own blog post, or posts even.   

However, this brought my absolute favorite Asian fare egg preparation to mind: chawanmushi.  Chawanmushi is a Japanese egg custard flavored with dashi, soy sauce, and mirin, and often served with shrimp, mushrooms, fish cake and other savory ingredients.  The first time I ever tried it left a serious impression.  Silky-smooth, umami-laden egg topped with uni, sea beans, and scallions; it was like nothing I'd ever had before.  Mind-blowing, in fact, as every egg custard I'd had until that point was sweet.  Who knew they could even be savory, and wouldn't a briny ocean pop from an oyster be a great addition?  I'm also a bit of an armchair Nipponophile, so when it came to eggs and oysters, I knew I was going to look to Japanese cuisine for some inspiration. 

Top left clockwise: ingredient prep, Graveling Points,
pouring the mixture, adding oysters mid-steam

It just so happened the next catch of the day from Fishadelphia was Graveling Point Oysters from Maxwell Shellfish off the Mullica River in New Jersey.  Perfect timing for my oyster and egg custard.  I grabbed a few ingredients from my local Asian grocer, Ebo's, and hit the web and some cookbooks for recipes and techniques.  I started with two eggs, whisked, and added in some dashi.  Instant Hondashi, to be exact.  Free time is rare as a parent, and my kids' one hour naps didn't provide enough for me to make a proper dashi from seaweed and bonito flakes.  Plus, I was skipping my own nap and was tired.  

Parenting is eggshausting.  

All the recipes I read varied slightly in their egg to liquid ratio.  Some said 3 to 1, others 2 to 1, and several said somewhere in between.  Then some went by weight, while others went by volume.  My whisked eggs equaled half a cup by volume, so I went with a cup and a third of dashi with a little rice vinegar, soy sauce, and oyster liquor.  Chawanmushi also requires straining to remove any particulate, ensuring a smooth, consistent custard.  I sieved the eggs and poured it into some Japanese tea cups over a few oysters, so they'd all steam and meld in flavor together.  I added some baby shiitake mushrooms on top, and the lidded tea cups went directly into a few inches of lightly steaming water for thirty minutes or so.  At the twenty-five minute mark, I added another oyster, just so it would barely cook and set on the top of the custard.  A fresher oyster to contrast the fully cooked ones on the bottom would be nice, but I didn't want the temperature clash of a raw oyster and its ice-cold liquor mixed into the warm, cozy custard. 

  

Oyster Chawanmushi

 I steamed the tea cups for another five minutes, but the custard hadn't fully set.  I gave them another five minutes, checked again, but still not set.  Had my egg to dashi ratio been wrong?  Was my water temperature too low?  Would the custard ever firm up?  Finally, after another ten minutes, they had that classic custard quiver and were finished.  David Chang did say "making chawanmushi is easy, but cooking it is difficult."  I definitely found that to be true as the prep was a breezy five minutes, but the cooking was forty-five minutes full of anxiety and impatience.  That being said, there are more approachable and less fussy ways to make chawanmushi.  I removed the lids and added sesame seeds, fresno chilies, chives, and some caviar.  You know I had to work fish eggs somewhere into a post on oysters and eggs.  Don't worry, it was just $10 Coho salmon "caviar" from Whole Foods.  I'm a baller on a budget.  Thankfully, all the anxious cooking paid off as it tasted incredible.  It was silky, smooth, and savory.  The smokiness from the dashi was most prominent, but the oyster brine and flavor was notably there.  The salmon roe brought a sharp brightness, and the mushrooms a slight earthiness.  And the fully cooked oysters at the bottom were texturally perfect, a most surprising delight.  This chawanmushi was, in one word, eggsquisite.

Spoonful of the Chawanmushi

My oyster and egg mashups were a lot of fun, from the initial research and conception to seeing each dish to fruition.  Some were great overall, others were great learning eggsperiences.  And this was just a start to a most eggcellent adventure.  There are plenty more combinations that I certainly missed and am keen on eggsploring.  I fondly look forward to further eggsperiments, and hope you try your hand at some as well.  Perhaps, if you're bold enough, take a crack at a prairie oyster.  Either way, go eat some oysters and eggs!  

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd

Boston Seafood Tour

My family and I took a weekend trip up to Boston recently for the missus' 15th year college reunion.  I've never been the reunion type.  Tony Soprano said it best - "...'remember when' is the lowest form of conversation."  What else can you talk about with someone you occasionally played beer pong with or sat next to in Intro to Western Civ?  They also seem like shameless networking and bragging sessions.  The amount you hear - "So, what do you do?" - is brutal.  "I'm a lead attorney and vice president for DLA Piper."  "In finance right now, but working on a tech start up."  "Tenured professor at Tufts, and we summer on the Cape."  Who knew "summer" could be used as a verb?  I enjoyed throwing people off with my response of "well, I play soccer, eat seafood, garden, hang out with my kid, a lot of Netflix and Phillies baseball."  It was fun watching them squirm to get out "oh, I meant for a living, what do you do for a living?"  And though I had no frame of reference for the former co-eds in their heyday, Joan Cusack's line in Grosse Pointe Blank resonated with me - "I went to my reunion, it was just as if everyone had swelled."  

I'm kidding.  These were my preconceptions of reunions.  I was pleasantly surprised how nice the experience was, and of course am joking on the "swelling" part.  Everyone was lovely, both in appearance and conversation.  I did come to realize that a college reunion is a wonderful chance to get all your friends together in one place, if you can reach a critical mass in attendance.  They're particularly opportune if those friends are strewn about the globe, as was the case here.  And while rubbing elbows on the quad over mediocre tapas and poor deejaying isn't my cup of tea (woohoo! Boston!), I did in fact have a splendid time.       

The 30+ restaurants or markets I'd considered
for my seafood tour of Boston

More importantly, there was a Saturday afternoon interlude in which I could sneak away to explore Boston's seafood scene.  Cape Cod oysters, Ipswich clams, scrod, lobster rolls, and of course, New England clam chowder.  There's certainly no shortage of seafaring history, culture, and cuisine when it comes to Boston.  Unfortunately, the four to five hour window I had couldn't do any of this true justice.  My journey would be more like Paul Revere's in length than Israel Bissell's (definitely check Bissell out if you're not familiar).  I was limited by time, geography, and hours of operation.  Such is life as a parent, and for the brownie points, I'll say "I wouldn't change a thing."  I did some research, consulted some Boston-familiar friends, and put together a respectable mashup of classic, trendy, and eclectic eateries.  Apologies in advance for the innumerable gems omitted from this tour.  So, after hugs and kisses to my almost-napping toddler and eye-on-the-time fiancé, I jumped in a cab and headed to the city. 

Two of Saltie Girl's Four Menus:
Raw Bar and Main

First stop was Saltie Girl in Back Bay.  This place gets busy as ever for Saturday brunches, and since they don't take reservations, I needed to get there early.  Opened in 2016 by Kathy Sidell, Saltie Girl was hyped as a pint-sized 30-seat restaurant hawking Barcelona-inspired seafood, right next to its parent restaurant, MET Back Bay.  It proved so successful that it took over MET Back Bay's space in mid 2020 and more than tripled in size.  Even arriving at 11:15 am, just after they'd opened, the place felt overwhelming.  Scores of patrons in the street, patio, bar, upstairs and downstairs dining rooms.  Dozens of staff scurrying around with smoked salmon benedicts and fried lobster & waffles.  I nestled into a corner seat at the bar, and I swear, the bartender averaged making ten Bloody Marys a minute my entire meal. 

Fried Clams, Raw Platter
Live Rokke Scallop Crudo 

Being busy definitely isn't a bad thing for a restaurant, nor its guests necessarily.  But when that carries over to the menus, it can be.  Nothing looked bad, it was just too much and again, overwhelming.  Toasts, crudos, oysters, tartares, pastas, sashimi, terrines, burgers, caviar, fried fish.  Overkill, literally.  I was originally keen on ordering some tinned seafood (more on that later), but that menu was 100 items alone.  And beyond those tins, nothing really struck me as Catalan, as Saltie Girl was originally branded.  I decided on a modest mix of dishes.  I had to save room for the rest of the tour, but wanted a good representation.  Some raw, some crudo, some fried, some fancy.  I ordered three different oysters, a top neck clam, and a Jonah crab claw.  Seeing Jonah crab on menus excites me.  It was largely ignored when I was growing up on the East coast, deemed as inferior to the blue crab or lobster, and often considered by-catch or a nuisance. However, regulations and over-fishing of other species have seen the Jonah crab's popularity grow.  And it's quite delicious, kind of like a poor man's Dungeness crab.  As for the oysters, unfortunately all were a bit lean and bland.  It was the summer, a poor oyster season, so I couldn't expect top quality or hold that against them.  They were a little butchered and bellied in their shucking, though.

Foie Gras & BBQ Eel
(Unagi) Toast

The fried Ipswich clam bellies didn't disappoint.  Crunchy, salty, and slightly sweet with that intertidal gaminess only clams have.  The intoxicating aroma of fried clams alone is enough reason to order them.  Ipswich clams, more crassly known as piss clams, are rarely found outside of New England.  If they aren't on your Boston culinary bucket list, right next to chowder and lobster roll, you've got some reassessing to do.  The scallop crudo with green garlic sauce was clean, refreshing, and pretty decent.  What impressed, though, was the seared foie gras & BBQ eel toast with sesame and shisho.  I have a mixed relationship with foie gras, I'll admit, in that it feels both over and under appreciated.  There's a pervasive hatred and a counter-culture love of it.  Politics and production methods aside, I overindulged on foie gras while working in the industry as it was always on hand.  It lost its mystique and appeal.  A few years later, having been out of restaurants for some time, I miss it, particularly when seeing the price tags as an average patron.  Either way, it's delicious, and Saltie Girl's pairing with unagi on toast was a delightful bite.  The decadent, fatty foie gras matched the eel's briny sweetness well, and was all illuminated by the bright shiso and Japanese BBQ sauce.  

Overall, Saltie Girl was a perfectly pleasant time with solid food, although not what I imagine the establishment originally set out to be.  That's fine.  Restaurants evolve and cater to their clientele's desires, as they should.  It was little raucous and overwhelming at times, but maybe that's me being old and curmudgeonly.  I just wish I'd been able to dine there in its pre-expansion prime.  I can't be sure, but believe it was a much different experience. 

Seaport seems to constantly
be in development mode

Next stop was Row 34 in Seaport.  The last two decades have seen this neighborhood completely revamped, primarily from the city's Big Dig and billions of dollars in local, state, and federal investment.  Abandoned warehouses and desolate parking lots are now 7-figure lofts and shimmering glass high rises.  It's nice, but almost too nice, like a movie set or something.  Character takes time.  And of course, with luxury development comes hip, new restaurants serving up locally sourced produce, spirits, and seafood.  Ironically, it's this very development that may officially kill the city of Boston's fishing industry by pricing out the commercial anglers at the waterfront pier, but that's another story.  Row 34 was opened in late 2013 through a partnership of James Beard nominated chef Jeremy Sewall and oyster-farmer now oyster-magnate Skip Bennett of Island Creek.  The restaurant's name even comes from an especially prized oyster growth row on Island Creek's farm in Duxbury Bay.  It's got an industrial chic, workingman's feel, but the menus and food are a bit more elevated than your average oyster bar.  

I was meeting an old friend here, so this was my only real chance to go full throttle on a menu of any of the establishments I'd be visiting.  And man, we went pedal to the metal:

Left Going Clockwise - Raw Bar, Raw Oysters,
Smoked & Cured Fish Board, Collar and Whole Fish

• Raw Oysters 
• Row 34, Duxbury, MA 
• Butter & Brine, Narragansett, RI  
• Farewell Bluff, Damariscotta, ME
• Smoked & Cured Board
• Salmon Gravlax
• Classic Smoked Salmon
• Bluefish Pâté
• Salmon Pâté
• Crispy Fried Island Creek Oysters
• Baked Oysters w/ Poblano Lime Butter
• Roasted Amberjack Collar w/ Pistachio Gremolata
• Grilled Whole Black Sea Bass w/ Corn & Shishito Chimichurri and Cilantro Crema

Their menus were admittedly just shy of Saltie Girl's size and breadth, but they were more focused, more reigned in.  Everything seemed legit and in line.  Mostly continental American with some pan-Latino influence.  They had a raw selection of ten oysters, focused on Cape Cod, with a few from Maine, Rhode Island, and Virginia.  Looking back, the oysters were by far the best shucked and presented of the day.  I expected nothing less from an establishment co-owned by an oyster farmer, after all.  All three we ordered were delectable, especially the Row 34s.  Duxbury Bay oysters always have a savory shellfish or lobster stock finish to them, and the Row 34s delivered this in spades.  I now understand the restaurant's choice in name.

Row 34 not under construction
Photo courtesy of Bentel & Bentel

The smoked & cured fish platter was solid, most notably the salmon "pâté."  It was basically a classic smoked whitefish dip, but hit all the right spots.  My buddy and I have a saying about house smoked fish:  "if it's on the menu, it gets ordered."  I was glad we stuck to the credo here.  The accoutrements with the board felt more like an after thought, but the important parts were on point.  And like smoked fish, if a fish collar is on the menu, it too "gets ordered."  The roasted collar was rich, juicy, and exploding with deep amberjack flavor.  It contrasted well with the sweet pistachios, tart lemon, and sharp garlic of the gremolata.  Just like a t-bone steak or bone-in chicken thighs, fish cooked on the bone always tastes better, whether whole, chops, or portions like the collar.  I really appreciated seeing the same fish throughout the menu being prepared in different parts and ways.  Halibut ceviche, halibut tacos, pan seared halibut cheeks, roasted halibut collars.  Right away, you know Row 34 is bringing in fresh whole fish, butchering, and utilizing every bit.  Economical, sustainable, and delicious all at the same time.  My only regret was not ordering one of the ceviches or crudos, as it seemed they put a lot of thought into those presentations.  Maybe next time when we return for the 20th year college reunion.  Thumbs up to Row 34, either way.  

The Union Oyster House
from Marshall Street

The third stop was an absolute must.  Perhaps not from a culinary perspective, but definitely a historic one.  I headed out of Seaport, across the Congress Street Bridge, and past the Boston Tea Party Museum.  I'm also a bit of an American Revolution nerd, so I would have loved to stop in.  Time was of the essence, though, and Union Oyster House was going to provide plenty of historic representation (with a modest taxation).  Founded in 1826 next to what is now Boston City Hall, Union Oyster House is the oldest continually-operating restaurant in America and a recognized National Landmark.  The building itself predates the restaurant by over a century, having previously been a dry goods and clothing store.  It housed a printing press for The Massachusetts Spy, a 1770s pro-American Revolution newspaper, and was briefly the residence of then-exiled Louis Phillipe, who later became King of France.  Since its inception as a restaurant, originally named Atwood & Bacon Oyster House, countless celebrities, politicians, and tycoons have dined at the establishment.  There's even a booth named after President John F. Kennedy, where he frequently enjoyed many a libation and oyster.

I didn't even catch which were "Rhode
Island" and which were "Connecticut"

I grabbed a seat at the original 1826 semi-circular oak oyster bar.  It's so old and weathered that there's a slight decline in the bar top, towards your lap.  One end of each platter actually needs to be propped on coasters when served.  Anachronistically charming as hell.  As for the menu, it had a bit of a "don't tread on me" attitude.  If it's working, why change it?  By no means was anything cutting edge, and even teetered on tourist-trappy.  Crab cakes, lobster rolls, crumbed Boston scrod, fried seafood and of course, chowder, which they've reportedly been serving since the 1840s.  But sometimes, the classics are classics for a reason, and I respect that.  Ye Olde Union Oyster House is, after all, a historic landmark, and the food reflects this.  

What I most enjoyed were the oyster listings - just "oysters - 1/2 dozen or dozen - market price."  I asked the shucker what oysters they had, and he responded "Good oysters.  One's from Rhode Island and the other's from Connecticut."  The simplicity was honestly kind of refreshing.  No "bottom cultivated, three years to harvest Royal Captain's Cups - bright brine with slight notes of brassica."  While I certainly value, even advocate for the high brow oyster sommelier presentation, there was something nice about "Rhode Island or Connecticut, what do you want?"  Both were well shucked and tasty, as was the chowder.  I went into Union Oyster House kind of knowing exactly what to expect.  Nothing mind blowing or showstopping in terms of cuisine.  What I did expect, and got, was a satisfying glimpse into colonial Boston with a heaping plate of history.  The oysters and "cuppa chowdah" on the side were great too.        

On to the final stop, but I first wanted to circle back to the aforementioned tinned seafood.  Quality tinned seafood is both literally and figuratively foreign to the US.  Starkist skipjack tuna or Bumble Bee pink salmon typically come to mind first when we hear "canned seafood," and they're most frequently reserved for budget conscious casseroles or sandwiches.  Don't get me wrong.  I've enjoyed a decent tuna salad sandwich here and there.  But most of these products fall closer to the cat food rather than caliber side of the culinary spectrum.  You'd be hard pressed to find Chicken-of-the-Sea celebrated at any established eatery.  Shit, our expectations for these products are so low that Subway fooled us for years by passing off even worse products as "canned tuna."  

However, across the pond, largely in Portugal and Spain, a variety of tinned seafoods or conservas have long been treasured as oceanic delicacies.  Most canned fish products in American markets are high volume, lower quality catches that are butchered, steamed, packed in water or vegetable oil, preserved and sold as economical staples.  Abroad, there's a bit more artistry to it.  Entire stores and restaurants are dedicated solely to curated tinned goods. Seafood preservation isn't just to sustain edibility, but a way to highlight or amplify desired characteristics.  Preservers employ nuanced techniques to elicit the best textures and flavors.  Pungent anchovies and sardines are cured, then seasoned and immersed in vinaigrettes.  Rare bivalves are mildly treated and packed at peak freshness to maintain their prized taste.  Tuna belly is charcoal grilled and preserved in rich, velvety oils.  It goes on, but to say the least, the Iberians and other Europeans take their tinned seafood much more seriously than we do/have.  A few vestiges of colonialism might have been nice to keep post-Revolution, in this instance at least.  Luckily, it's started to catch on in the States in the last few years.  And Boston, with its large Portuguese and Cape Verdean immigrant populations and influences, is a perfect starting point.      

haley.henry's front window

This is where haley.henry entered.  Well, after some wayward wandering around downtown first.  As they're centuries old, Boston's streets are not laid out in any discernible grid or pattern.  It's easy to get lost or turned around in what felt like a live action game of Chutes and Ladders.  After a few loops, I finally arrived at my destination.  Opened in 2016 by veteran sommelier Haley Fortier, haley.henry is an unassuming neighborhood wine bar in Downtown Crossing.  It's focused on natural wines, tinned fish, crudos, charcuterie, and hip hop.  Yes, hip hop.  The menu even whimsically pays tribute to hip hop favorites with à la carte categories like "bone thugs & charcuterie" or "biggie small plates."  As soon as I walked into an open kitchen behind a warm wooden bar and a congenial staff with Ghostface Killah playing in the background, I knew I'd made the right choice.   

View of the kitchen from
my seat at the bar

I was seated at the bar, right in front of the kitchen.  The bar is only nine seats and the kitchen is, at best, a compact 5 x 15 feet.  Talk about being packed in like sardines, am I right?!  Impressive they're able to execute quality from such a modest space.  I most admired their inventive use of the limited area and equipment; one of the cooks was reducing something in a sauce pan on the panini press.  Respect.  The menus were just as advertised on the front window.  An erudite listing of wines and beers, some salty and pickley starters, meat & cheese boards, crudos, and tinned fish.  As you can imagine, I was there for the latter.  And while I highly praise artisanally preserved seafood, I'm most definitely a novice to the wide array of choices.  The GM of the restaurant more than willingly spent several minutes chatting with me and detailing the selection.  

I landed on three tins - Icelandic cod liver in its own oil; Portuguese calamari tubes stuffed with tentacles and rice, preserved in a tomato ragout; and Portuguese steamed mussels in escabeche.  All were served with toasted bread, red onion, mixed herbs, lemon, and of course, Ruffles.  It takes balls to present a $22 tin of fish next to a bag of 50¢ potato chips and say "trust me, this is best."  But shit, they were right.  Each tin was great.  The mussels were full of that vinegary, smokey paprika, garlic forward flavor a classic escabeche delivers.  The calamari tubes were delightful, like tiny seafood seafood sausages in salty tomato sauce.  As for the cod liver, absolute next level.  I know cod liver oil has had some not so pleasant connotations in our culture.  I always picture poor little Johnny being force-fed a spoonful before he's allowed to watch Howdy Doody or go shoot marbles.  That stuff is fermented and choked down for health purposes, and I believe constitutes child abuse nowadays.  This tin of cod liver, however, was incredible.  It was mild yet luscious and spread on toast like warm butter.  The GM was dead on with "it's the foie gras of the sea."  With a touch of salt and a squeeze of lemon, I can't think of many better bites I had the entire weekend.  I even peer-pressured a couple dining next to me to try some.  They agreed.  I only wish I could have tried a few more tins from the menu, as the three recommendations I had were great.  Again, 20th year college reunion, here I come.     

Left to Right - Minnow Cod Liver in Oil, Da Morgada Stuffed Calamari in Ragout,
Da Morgada Mussels in Escabeche 

Whereas Saltie Girl's tinned fish list was over 100 items that I doubt more than a few staff members could knowledgeably speak to, haley.henry's was carefully and resolutely selected.  Anyone can order the gamut of Iberian canned goods from their regional wholesaler.  Boasting the widest selection of something is not always a good thing.  Believe me, I did it with oysters as a raw bar manager, and the quality and connection with the guests suffered.  haley.henry is hitting the tinned seafood experience right in the sweet spot.  It's not often I'm awestruck by what a restaurant is doing, but I can truly say I felt that here.  The food, music, ambiance, staff, and conversation were all some of the best I've had in years.  They succeed in humbly selling their experience with and passion for novel wines and cuisine.  They strike a delicate balance of fun and educational dining while eschewing even the slightest hint of arrogance or condescension.  As the owner put it, "we don't take ourselves too seriously."  It's hard to with menu categories like "Missy Shell-iot," sides of Ruffles potato chips, and even Weiner Wednesdays.  But I can assure you, haley.henry does in fact take their food and drink very seriously, and it shows in the best ways.

      

Although brief, my mini seafood tour was a blast.  I had some great food, learned some intriguing history, and chatted with some amazing and passionate people.  And while I still maintain reunions are not my thing, I am genuinely looking forward to the next one in Boston.  I've only touched the tip of the iceberg in what the city has to offer - just not quality baseball - #GoPhillies. 

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd