Roger Mariner's sign, Machipongo, Virginia; photo by Bernie Herman
The Eastern Shore of Virginia is a long, narrow peninsula that extends south from Maryland into the Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay. It is “the Other Eastern Shore,” less accessible and therefore less traveled and with fewer second homes than the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The remove reduces the chance of its beaches’ sprouting casinos or time-share condo communities and slows the less obvious cultural changes as well. Like many isolated patches of the nation, the Eastern Shore of Virginia is a world unto itself, a Saturday Evening Post sort of a world in which cooking and eating together remain the linchpins of social life.
For the most part, what’s grown, caught, or hunted on Virginia’s Eastern Shore is cooked and eaten there. News of the first “shedders” or a significant landing of drum fish or a handsome haul of toads quickly fills the parking lot of the Exmore Diner, where the first to arrive are the first to be served fried soft-shell-crab sandwiches, barbecued drum ribs, or fried toad. When Theodore Peed lets it be known that he’s simmering up a batch of turtle stew in his garage or that his hunting buddy H. M. Arnold declares his intention to barbecue a haunch of venison, the citizens of Northampton County, Virginia, begin planning the covered dishes and desserts they will carry to up his driveway to augment the feast.
Like the local drum ribs, toad, turtle, and soft-shell crabs that many aficionados consider superior to their famous cousins from Maryland, oysters from the Other Eastern Shore were traditionally a local delicacy. But as oysters beds elsewhere languished, Virginia’s eastern beds prospered, and aficionados discovered that the region’s varied creeks and inlets produced two distinct varieties of oysters, capable of giving the better-known Wellfleets or Blue Points serious competition.
Pete Terry; photo by Bernie Herman
From Prince Edward Island to the Gulf of Mexico, all the oysters that grow along the Eastern seaboard belong to one family—Crassostrea virginica. They differ depending on where they grow up and how well they are tended. Virginia’s Sewansecott variety comes from the Atlantic waters of Hog Island Bay along an 80-mile chain of barrier islands. Since 1903, the beds have been tended by H. M. Terry and his decedents in Willis Wharf. Sewansecotts are briny and rich, with a hint of copper and a sparkly finish.
The other local star, Nassawadox Salts—an heirloom variety that has recently been reclaimed—flourishes in the mouth of Nassawadox Creek, a tributary in the lower Chesapeake Bay. Since 1999, when they founded Shooting Point Oyster Company, Tom and Ann Arsinu Gallivan have been minding the local marsh grasses, selecting brood stock and vigilantly tending their nursery. Their stocks are robust enough to sell commercially now, but the couple continues to harvest from an old barge, The Oyster Queen, and to unload at the dock of the historic Bayford Oyster Company near Franktown, Virginia.
Tom Gallivan; photo by Bernard Herman
Their tastes are different, but the two stars of Virginia’s Eastern Shore are both meaty and juicy and are equally suited to slurping in the coldest months just as they are, or to baking, roasting, and making oyster stew.
The local sheriff, Jack Robbins, is known for his oyster stew. Indeed, oyster stew has probably been in his family as long as the tradition of law enforcement—he’s an eighth-generation descendant of Obedience Robins, who served as sheriff in 1632 (the second b was added later). But he was inspired to perfect the dish after eating it in a local restaurant. Fresh heavy cream can be used instead of evaporated milk, but mariners favor the thick, canned milk. It lends sweetness, as well as an offshore, far-from-the-nearest-dairy sense to the stew.
Either way, the cream and the brine make for an extraordinary comfort food, a meal by itself or the finale to a luxurious cold-weather feast.
Jack Robbins’s Oyster Stew
Eastville, Virginia“The best oyster stew I ever ate was at the old Etz’s restaurant in Cape Charles,” says Jack Robbins. “When you asked him how he made it, he would say, ‘With evaporated milk.’ That was it. I have been trying to make it as good, and I am close with the following. It’s not an old family recipe, but it is an evolving one. And it’s better on the second day, so make it ahead of time.”
- 1 pint of oysters (or more); fry the big ones and use the small ones for stew
- 1/2 gallon whole milk
- 12 ounces evaporated milk
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) sweet butter
- salt and pepper
1. Strain the oysters and reserve the juice, then separate the oysters into two groups—large ones and small ones. Melt half the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed pot, add the small oysters, and cook until they are solid, about 3 minutes. Add a cup and a half of the whole milk and all of the evaporated milk. Reduce the heat to very low and simmer for two hours. Remove from heat and cool overnight.
2. Return the stew to very low heat. Add the remaining milk, stir, and season with salt and black pepper to taste. Melt the remaining butter in a skillet. When it’s hot, quickly fry the large oysters until solid, about 2 minutes on each side. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the oysters into the stew and serve immediately.
Serves 12
