The Best Oysters Money Can Buy

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Apalachicola, FL -
In my Top 5 shows, I'm never only showing you the food. I'm always also talking about Place. The best dining experiences are travel experiences. These are the meals you couldn't have experienced anywhere else, whether because of the view, the surroundings, the people involved, or the ingredients. Sometimes, it's even because of all of the above––-and that's how it was filming my recent Top 5 Best Oyster Bars from Panama City to Carrabelle.

And that's the thing with fresh, raw, Apalachicola oysters: they are the barest, simplest, cleanest, most direct food you can eat, and they're available so scarcely, so rarely, and nowhere as widely as in Northwest Florida.

I've never felt as deeply immersed in the spirit of Northwest Florida, and the area called the "Forgotten Coast", as I did on this trip. I was on the docks when oystermen came in with their day's catch. I watched as they hurried to make the allotted time an oyster can be out of the water before it has to be chilled to its "dry storage" temperature of 45 degrees. They hauled burlap bags off the most rudimentary boats I've ever seen (picture the boxy, shallow, boat-shaped structure used for sandboxes in many playgrounds, then attach a motor). The oysters were weighed on big, clunky, rusty scales––the kind with the sliding weights––and washed in a machine that looked like it could have been hand-cranked. In short, I was amazed at how un-modernized the whole operation was. It could have been the Middle Ages if it weren't for the motors. And that's the thing with fresh, raw, Apalachicola oysters: they are the barest, simplest, cleanest, most direct food you can eat, and they're available so scarcely, so rarely, and nowhere as widely as in Northwest Florida.

All the places I visited were about as fuss-free as restaurants get, except when it came to the oysters. Service varied, from doting to brusque, but with lots of personality throughout. Needless to say, it was all plastic cups and silverware, paper towels, and largely outdoor seating. But when it came to the oysters––where they came from, who shucked them and how, how they were served, and the right way to do things? It couldn't have been more serious or strict. Nobody was messing around. Because, let's face it: eating oysters that aren't sourced carefully or stored right can be dangerous. It can even be fatal. It all comes down to what happens when the oyster leaves the water. I learned: Never Eat an Oyster That Appears Dry. An oyster should be shimmering, moist, plump, and floating in its own liquid. Once you've got that, it doesn't matter if you're sucking it down in a bar blasting classic rock and covered in dollar bills, or next to a biker on his fifth dozen (and that's just his lunch helping), or looking out at million-dollar yachts, or at nothing but a strip of swamp. The only thing that matters is that in your hand is the best oyster money can buy, and at the places I visited, it was barely any money at all. Now that's an experience worth traveling for.