Oysters Anyone?

 

            There is a line at the oyster booth.  It is a cool and breezy February farmers market in downtown Santa Barbara in southern California and although the groundhog has recently missed his shadow, the sun gazes intent and unchallenged upon this fruitful city.  Flourishing through four seasons in one of the most temperate regions in the United States, the weekly Saturday market boasts tomatoes and strawberries all year-round with local farmers and ranchers supplying a variety of goods from cheeses, wine and meats to fruits, vegetables and honey.  The scene is relatively quiet…the lobster lady kicks her chair back, a dairy farmer organizes her fromage…but, alas, there is a line at the oyster booth.

            Humans have been devouring oysters “by the dozen”, notably since the first century AD but in reality, probably much longer than that.  Protein, plus high levels of Calcium, Iron and Zinc, make these mollusks an integral part of a seaside towns dietary regimen.  In fact, until the middle of the 19^th century, oysters were considered an inexpensive “bar” or pub food, often afforded by the working class.  Their increasing popularity, and decreasing population, caused prices to sky-rocket, leading to their current classification as a sought after delicacy.

            Waiting in line, I observe as Bernard (my local oyster purveyor) bags dozens of shellfish, topping each of them off with a scoop of crushed ice.  As he works he is explaining his farming routine to the eager queue.  Using a seeding method, spats, or baby oysters, are purchased by the thousand and encouraged to fix themselves upon a series of submerged nets where they will eventually reach culinary maturity.  This method of farming saves the grower time and space required for these creatures to successfully pro-create.  All oysters are protandrous, meaning they are born male and are only capable of producing sperm until their second or third year when they have enough energy stores to begin producing eggs as females. (If need be, as a survival tactic, they are capable of switching back to being males after the first change has occurred.) Furthermore, the indirect nature of their reproductive process brings a need for mass clumping of males and females so as to facilitate the random collision of, carelessly released, sperm and egg.  After eight months to one year the seeded bivalves have grown from their initial length of about 1/8 of an inch and are already properly sized for consumption.  With a weekly payload of around 2000 oysters, and even more demand than he can hoist, this fisherman has no problem keeping his mollusks moving.              

            The oysters, which Bernard dubs “Hope Ranch” oysters, are harvested about 1 mile out from a local beach here in town.    However, do not let the inherited name fool you, for these delectable bivalves are not indigenous to the southern coast of California.  Nor are they true locals to any portion of North America for that matter.  Though their official common name is, quite ambiguously, the Pacific Oyster, they are native only to the Pacific coast of Asia.  This is not to say that there are no such species indigenous to North America.  The Eastern or Atlantic oyster thrives along the eastern coast of the United States, especially in the Chesapeake Bay where great shell piles known as middens lead scientists to believe that the current population is no more than 1% of what it was before the 19^th century.  Similar waste heaps have been found in the San Francisco area where the west coast native Olympia Oyster, by 1850, was thought to have gone extinct as a result of well over a thousand years of over harvesting until they were discovered again in 1990, thriving in the bays filthiest waters.  Introduced to North America’s western coast in 1929, the Pacific Oysters flourished in their new habitat quickly spreading throughout the region and out-performing both the native and the Atlantic species, which had previously been implanted in 1875 to boost the already crippled shellfish industry. 

            Preservation efforts have been in effect since the beginning of the 21^st century to restore and protect oyster beds in their native habitats, mainly as a result of their impeccable ability to filter nitrogen and other toxins from the water.  A single adult oyster is capable, through simply breathing and feeding on plankton, of filtering nearly 50 gallons of water everyday.  Any ingested nitrogen is formed into harmless, solid pellets and discarded at the bottom of the ocean to be utilized by nearby vegetation.  The lack of such filtration leaves water murky with plankton and bacteria, which are stimulated by the runoff of fertilizers from farm areas planted along far reaching tributaries.  This waning visibility doesn’t only affect the areas recreational divers but the local sea life as well.  Cloudy waters restrict the amount of UV rays that reach plants on the ocean floor, causing many species to die back and leading ultimately to a decreased oxygen supply, which in turn literally suffocates larger species, rendering the area uninhabitable.   Using the Chesapeake Bay as an example, scientists estimate that it now takes the current oyster population about eleven months to filter every drop of water that the bay holds.  Prior to the 19^th century, this task is believed to have been completed every three days.  Organizations such as the Chesapeake Bay Program are dedicated to restoring the bay’s quality and diversity. They are planning to cut the levels of nitrogen entering the bay every year by nearly twenty million pounds by 2010 using, among other means, the noble oyster!

            At last, I am the next one up in line.  I can practically taste the bright squeezed lemon in the fresh saltwater brine.  A bit of shallot and a couple drops of vinegar…. my gaze is fixed dreamily on a giant oyster shell hovering over the table.  Evidence of a time when the numbers of these creatures were too many even for the mouths of humans to expend.  When their thirty-year life span was more commonly achieved, and their indefinite growth habit had us finding oysters the size of our heads.  My wallet is already wielded and ready for action as I approach the counter.  Bernard greets me with a coy yet victorious smile… he knows what I’m here for.  “Sorry… no more oysters today… just sold my last dozen!”  Walking from the market I am already planning an earlier arrival at next weeks agronomist gathering.  Until then, I’ll find other avenues to pacify my budding epicurean palate, and maybe… just maybe, an unlucky “half-dozen” will cross my wandering path!