Simple Oyster Stew

Folks who grew up on the coast, or visiting family and friends there on a regular basis, understand the simple humble goodness of this no-frills stew. Assembled in minutes using just fresh oysters, milk, salt, pepper, butter, and a little green onion, this stew is incredibly simple, but that’s why it’s so good.

Fresh oysters are the key ingredient here, and the rich liquor inside their shells—don’t settle for anything less than the best. After a quick simmer to meld the flavors, all you need is a spoon and plenty of oyster crackers to enjoy one of the simplest and best Southern seafood suppers you’ll find.

This gloriously simple comes from the home kitchen of Bill Smith, one of our favorite food writers. He’s the former head chef of the iconic restaurant Crooks Corner in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, now closed but fondly remembered by many. Bill’s love of oysters runs deep—the following story is his culinary love letter to one of the South’s most cherished gifts from the sea.

The Best Oyster Stew, According to Bill Smith

My father, Bill Smith Sr., delivered the U.S. mail for his entire working life. (During World War II, he was assigned to an army post office in Calcutta, India.) For a few years, while I was still living at home, his route included parts of Pamlico County on the North Carolina coast. Back in those days, people would often leave presents for postal workers, especially around the holidays. We sometimes kept a gifted basket of oysters under a wet burlap bag in our basement. (I should note here that the health department says you should never ever keep raw bivalves unrefrigerated—even in the basement.)

Along the East Coast, everyone actually obeyed the rule about eating oysters in the “R” months: They were considered out of season in warm weather. People thought they got too large and became sort of milky.

It turns out, they aren’t unsafe at other times of the year, just less appetizing. We mainly prepared them three ways: in a stew, roasted over a fire, or raw. I still prefer these uncomplicated recipes. I’ve often said that one of the hardest things for a chef to learn is when to leave well enough alone. Unfussy oysters reinforce this point of view.

Oyster stew was always soothing. How can something so simple be so delicious? If you don’t have to do the shucking, it can be ready in a snap. It’s almost not even a recipe at all. It seems strange to me now, but it was often brought to us when we were sick. My father’s mother would ask for it when she became frail, and sometimes bedridden, in old age.

In coastal North Carolina, oyster fishing was done in the wild until recently. The people who gathered them for a living could lease out beds during the busy season. Then development, pollution, and climate change began to affect our wild seafood populations. This has happened all along the Southern coast.

Happily, people in the industry—often the younger members of old fishing families—have realized that oysters can be successfully and safely farmed, which allows for them to be somewhat protected from these threats.

Then, there are the more personal struggles: A few of my relatives suddenly became allergic to oysters after eating them their whole lives. Their doctors told them that this isn’t uncommon, just bad luck. I hate to think what I would do if this happened to me.

I’m in favor of oysters any way they show up—even in drinks. I’m especially fond of the beer-tomato juice cocktail known as the michelada. One time, when I ordered one in Mexico City, the waiter asked if I would prefer it regular or extraordinario. “Why, extraordinary, of course!” I replied. It came with a spoon because half a dozen raw oysters had been stirred into the drink. It was a showstopper.