Oyster

Pat: In the South, most stuffing recipes call for some kind of meat, whether it’s bacon, liver, chicken, or boiled turkey, as well as some kind of stock to keep the stuffing moist. In this recipe, the briny oysters meld beautifully with the spicy andouille sausage, and the end result is a stuffing so good that you won’t want to wait until Thanksgiving to try it. For the best results, use day-old cornbread, so it has time to dry out a bit, which will enable it to absorb all the flavorful juices inside the bird.

Oysters Rockefeller was created in New Orleans at the turn of the last century. It was named for John D. Rockefeller, the richest man in America at the time, because he and the dish had something in common. If you don’t overcook them, oysters are juicy and creamy and taste luxuriously rich. Without changing too much from the classic recipe (aside from reducing the loads of butter), the fat content went from 22 grams to just under 6 grams—with most of that coming from the oysters themselves. This dish is a fabulous throwback that won’t set you back. Oysters Rockefeller are baked in piles of coarse salt not just to anchor the liquid in the oyster shell but also because salt is an excellent conductor of heat.

This vinaigrette is more like a chunky sauce, and is also great as a topping for bread toasts. Don’t refrigerate the vinaigrette—the fat from the bacon turns from liquid to solid.

You can’t argue with tradition, but you can update it. The cocktail sauce is also great with cold poached shrimp.

Classic, old-school New Orleans flavor, slightly updated. Because of the expense of the oysters, these are better for smaller crowds, 10 to 12 people max.

Beach clambakes are a blast. They make me think of Annette Funicello, who I still find very attractive. Anyway … Lobsters, clams, and corn all steamed in seaweed: For me, it’s the perfect summer party. Even if you can’t get to the beach, you can still pull off a great clambake in your own backyard. Be sure to ask your fish guy for some seaweed. Lobsters come in crates packed with this stuff, so he should be able to give you some. Parboil the lobsters to kill them first before putting them on the grill. Alternatively, you can just split the bodies down the middle to kill them and skip the boiling step.

Make or buy a savory cornbread to use in this luxurious stuffing; the kind you use will determine how much broth you'll need to moisten it.

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Alex Brown and Evan George's Savory Rolls . The next best thing to foraging your own wild mushrooms and huffing their death-matter musk from a Hobbitshire-like hillside in NorCal while your guide trips on psilocybin shrooms is (obviously) slurping crispy hot shrooms right out of the cast-iron skillet they were cooked in. Admittedly, it's a distant second. But it still feels nasty. Thanks to the whole steak joint steeze revival, it’s now totally acceptable to eat out of cast-iron. Here we do a mushroom mélange of various shapes, sizes, textures, and prices. Omit and add as you like, especially if you actually get to forage for wild ones.

You are, no doubt, familiar with the so-called trinity of Louisiana cookery: onions, celery, and bell pepper. Susan Spicer of New Orleans, a self-described eggplant freak who cooks in an internationally inflected Creole style, has honed a new sort of trinity: eggplant, oysters, and tasso.
Here, tasso, an intensely flavored smoked pork of Cajun origin, serves as a seasoning, in the same way that a smoked pig trotter flavors a pot of greens. Although Spicer recommends that you serve scoops of this gratin as an appetizer, consider yourself warned: We have done the same. And no matter what we served to follow, it paled in comparison. Your guests might be happier with a large helping of this Creolized casserole and a salad.

It used to be that you could buy and eat oysters only in months with an "R" in them. That's because during the summer months of spawning, wild oysters develop an "off" flavor. Transporting oysters in hot weather, before the days of refrigerated trucks, was also problematic. Today, about 80 percent of oysters are farm-raised in submerged nets, dining on plankton in carefully controlled marine environments. They spawn at different times during the year, so there's always a variety available that's good to eat. When ready, they're harvested and shipped by air to seafood markets. If you're not comfortable shucking oysters at home, have the fishmonger shuck them for you and ask him or her to give you a half shell for each oyster.
In this recipe, you'll get smoky flavor from two sources: the wood-grilling technique and the chipotle chile in the vinaigrette.

I've been a big fan of the plump and succulent wonders of oysters for a long time—since even before I started frequenting one of my favorite raw bars: the one in the Blue Ribbon, in Tribeca. Something about the charm of this particular example of our sea's bounty has always intrigued me. These days I prefer local (like Cape Cod) over other types of oysters, but, still, I'm open! The accompanying salsita—which is tasty all by itself or even spread on a small salad of your favorite greens—offers a wonderful flavor and texture balance. I suggest making the accompanying sauce ahead of time so you can visit with your guests. Then just grill the oysters, plate them, and serve.

At Moran's Oyster Cottage, diners enjoy this dish alongside homemade bread.

Instead of oyster dressing or scalloped oysters, try an ethereal bread-crumb pudding packed with plump, perfectly cooked bivalves. Their brininess helps to cut the richness of the custard.

Editor's note: Oysters Bienville is usually served as an appetizer. Created at Antoine's Restaurant in New Orleans, it is also found on many menus throughout the city and there are several versions. This one by the late Leon E. Soniat, Jr., is easy to prepare and quite authentic.

Here is a Cajun-style gumbo, a one-pot dish made with chicken and andouille from the farm, with the addition of salty oysters from the bays along the Gulf of Mexico. It is usually served with baked sweet potatoes or potato salad.

Jah Sang Ho Editor's note: This recipe is reprinted from My Grandmother's Chinese Kitchen: 100 Family Recipes and Life Lessons, by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo. Oysters are one of those three fruits of the sea permissible to Buddhists and were therefore insisted upon for New Year lunch by my grandmother. Cooking them with a batter is traditional. Their name, ho see, sounds like the Chinese words for good business.

For most people, the word gumbo immediately conjures the Cajun and Creole cooking of Louisiana. But okra (ngombo in Bantu), for which the soup-stew is named, reached South Carolina with the slave trade some years before Europeans settled in Louisiana, and the Creole world, where African, European, and indigenous cultures meet, actually extends up the southern Atlantic coast. There are many different gumbo recipes, all taking advantage of local ingredients and served with rice. This one is a heady, fragrant slurry thick with seafood. If desired, add filé powder (ground dried sassafras leaves), a Choctaw thickening agent with an almost lemony flavor, just before eating.

Editor's note: The recipe and introductory text below are from Jean Anderson's book A Love Affair with Southern Cooking. Pickled oysters are a cocktail favorite wherever oysters are fresh, plump, and flavorful, meaning most of the South. The hostesses I know like to mound them in small crystal bowls, top them off with a little of the pickling liquid, and pass with toothpicks so that guests can "go spearfishing." Though the red serranos add color, I suggest sprigging the bowl with fresh dill umbels or sprigs of Italian parsley. Come to think of it, small fennel umbels would also be attractive and appropriate. Note: Because cooking clouds the oyster liquid, I pour it through a coffee filter–-lined sieve directly onto the oysters and spices. Makes for a prettier presentation at serving time.

Beware—once you've had a few bites of this rice, you'll surely be back for seconds and thirds. Loaded with bits of treasure—smoked oysters, meaty mushrooms, Chinese sausage that tastes almost candied—the rice itself has an amazing chew that exemplifies the Chinese genius for varying textures in a meal. Though the lotus-leaf wrapping is optional, the rice gains a beguiling aroma, suggestive of tea, if you do use it—and the drama of unwrapping the stuffing at the table, like a lovely present, shouldn't be underestimated.