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Oysters in the Shell
Put a dozen or so of large oysters on a gridiron over a moderate fire with the flat shell uppermost; when done they will open. Preserve the liquor in the shells with the oysters and serve them hot.
Three sentences that assume a coal grate and a cook who knows what a gridiron is. The method still works over charcoal, gas, or under a broiler, provided the oysters sit level.
- Shell orientation is the whole recipeOysters have one deep cup-shaped shell and one flat lid. The cup goes down, the flat shell up, so the liquor collects instead of hissing into the fire. Steady them on a bed of rock salt or crumpled foil if your grate lets them roll.
- "Gridiron" and "moderate fire"A gridiron is a grate of bars set over coals; a modern grill rack directly over medium heat is the nearest equivalent. The recipe gives no temperature beyond "a moderate fire." A broiler with the pan 4-5 inches down works as well and is easier to control.
- How longTiming varies with the size of the oyster and the heat of the fire: figure roughly 5 to 10 minutes. The recipe's own cue is the only one given -- "when done they will open." Take them off soon after they gape, since further cooking toughens them.
- Any that stay shutAn oyster that refuses to open after 10 minutes should be discarded rather than pried. Also discard any that were already gaping and did not close when tapped before cooking.
- Sizing and count"Large oysters" is not defined anywhere in the recipe; a select-grade oyster of around three inches is a reasonable modern reading. The recipe specifies only "a dozen or so" and gives no number of servings.
- Handling the heatThe shells come off screaming hot and the liquor inside will scald. Lift with tongs onto a warmed plate, and steady each with a folded towel while you cut the muscle free.
- ServingThe recipe specifies no accompaniment: only that the liquor be kept in the shell and the oysters served hot. Lemon and pepper, or melted butter poured into the shell at the table, are modern additions.
Roasting oysters in their own shells is older than any cookbook that records it: a grate, a fire, and oysters good enough to be eaten with almost nothing added. Oscar Tschirky's cook book dates from an era when New York ran on oysters, harvested by the millions of bushels from the Hudson and Raritan beds and sold from cellar saloons and street stands as cheap food, not luxury. The brevity of the entry may be suggestive, sitting among far more elaborate oyster preparations, it perhaps reminds the reader that when the shellfish is fresh, cookery gets out of the way. Within a couple of decades pollution and overharvesting had closed most of the local beds.