Hama Hamas, Blue Pools, and a bevy of beautiful whites

Here at The Oyster Guide we decided to ring in the holidays with a wine tasting, pairing six different whites from three different countries with half a dozen different oysters. There were a few duds and a few standouts. The picks of the litter: Screamingly salty Marin Miyagis (from I Love Blue Sea) with a butterscotchy Girard Napa Valley Chardonnay, and wicked briny Mystics with that very same Chard. This is further proof that the old rule about oysters requiring high-acid whites is a bunch of hooey. With very salty oysters from either coast, a rich, full-bodied Chardonnay rounds out the palate and takes away the salt much better. Then again, medium-briny Hama Hamas made a 2011 Crossings Sauvignon Blanc absolutely sing; the watermelon rind of the oysters and grapefruit of the wine both coming to the fore. So sometimes the old rules do apply. Last, Blue Pools (tumbled Hama Hamas) paired with a 2010 Barone Fini Alto Adige, grown high up in the Tyrol, to create an elegant, minerally purity. Yum, and Happy New Year to all. May your 2012 be bristling with bivalves.

Tawny-shelled Ned's Islands

Ned was an old Native American guy who lived all alone on his eponymous island on the Connecticut side of Long Island Sound. I don’t know if he liked oysters or not, but the waters off his island were thick with ‘em. This is the fabled home of Bluepoints, and that’s the flavor you get in a Ned’s Island oyster. Bluepoints have a checkered past. They were originally from the Great South Bay on the southern coast of Long Island, but after those were wiped out in the 1800s Bluepoint production switched to Long Island Sound, which had the last great wild sets in the area, and that’s where it really took off. Bluepoints became the most popular oysters in the country. But because the name is not trademarked, soon other regions (Delaware Bay, Chesapeake Bay, the Gulf of Mexico) began selling their oysters as Bluepoints, and still do. It’s done a terrible disservice to the name, because a good Bluepoint from Long Island Sound (like those harvested by Hillard Bloom Shellfish of Norwalk, Connecticut, the family-owned company that saved Long Island oystering) has wonderfully firm, briny flesh, while many of the ersatz bluepoints tasted like something the plumber freed from the U-curve under your sink. I still hit these fakes in restaurants all the time.

Ned’s Islands have the classic taste, with a lively 27-ppt brine. They are started in a hatchery (using local broodstock), then grown out in off-bottom cages. Any oysters that don’t meet the Ned’s Island specs are culled, meaning you get a deep-cupped, 3-4-inch oyster every time. Up off the bottom, they have access to a tawny-colored algae that covers the shells (very reminiscent of a Quonset Point) and gives them a complex flavor: sweet (at least on this December evening, when, admittedly, most oysters are at their sweetest), perfectly briny, with a lingering, tannic, green pepper finish (almost like a Chinon or other Cabernet franc). They also have a nice crunch, which to me is essential to the pleasure of an oyster.

• 1# loaf of white bread, cut into ½” cubes
• 2 cups medium diced Spanish onions
• 1 cup med diced celery
• 1 tbsp chopped garlic
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh sage
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh thyme
• ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
• ¼ tsp ground nutmeg
• ¾ cup chicken stock
• ¼ cup milk
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 24 pieces of shucked Bluepoint oysters

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A lot of Chesapeake oysters (particularly those from the northern, Maryland half) can be lacking in the salt department. Pungoteague Creeks, due to their location, relatively close to the mouth of the Bay and on the eastern side, which has no large rivers, have a nice balanced salinity. Just enough, I’d say. Like most Chesapeake oysters, they have a light body, compared to their Northeast cousins, and a bit of a rusty, alkaline finish. They have good-looking shells, without the scarring that can mar many Chesapeake oysters, and a green-tinged shell that almost made them look Canadian.

If you want to understand the essence of a Chesapeake oyster, Pungoteagues would be an excellent place to start. In recent months, that’s become easy to do: They’re on the menu at Hank’s Oyster Bar in Alexandria, Ryleigh’s Oyster in Baltimore, and Metropolitan Kitchen & Lounge in Annapolis, among other locations.

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The oysters have the classic Maine brine, but with a notably different taste than Damariscotta, particularly on the finish, which has a nice bitter green olive component. The oysters are also beautiful to look at: green-tinged shells ringed with a pure snowy white for their last year of growth.

Abigail is also growing Belons–a heroic endeavor. Check out either one you find–or, preferably, half a dozen of each.

And what, you may ask, is that thing the oysters are sitting on? A Shellfish Griller, of course. (Not that I grilled them. Please.)

It’s called a Shellfish Griller, and it was originally invented for grilling clams and oysters. The usual problem, see, is that when you place your shellfish on your grill, they tip over and the juice runs out. Not with the Griller, whose triangular openings find a firm holding point for every possible shell configuration.

But forget grilling. Where this great grate really comes into its own is serving oysters on the halfshell. No more awkward plates filled with slushy ice that melts and soaks your oysters. Every oyster, of every size, stays in a perfectly upright position. (If you refrigerate the grate ahead of time, it will also help keep the oysters cold.) Extra points for the funky industrial look. (My wife has even allowed me to hang it on the wall of our kitchen; this is a major personal breakthrough.) There are individual serving grates and big party-platter ones. Bottoms up…