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As a kid, I dreamed of sailing the seven seas in search of adventures beyond my hometown. I never made it out on the open water, but a handful of years ago, I finally slipped away from terra firma: This mountain girl got to go oystering just off the edge of Harkers Island.

It was a day so cold and windy that I could feel my ribs quivering beneath my thickest jacket, but the sky was crystalline Carolina blue and the water a few shades darker. My guide was an oysterman who welcomed me aboard with an outstretched hand and engaging grin.

His small boat skimmed across the water, skipping over rolling waves and kicking up a wake as we gained speed. Although I’d been jabbering nonstop about how exciting all of this was for me, a lifelong landlubber, I hushed when we glided to a stop at the oyster beds. I sat quietly, in awe of the foreign surroundings, as I watched him wade through the shallows, where his cages floated, and pluck enough oysters for us to have a feast right there on the prow.

Pried apart, an oyster shell is the only serving vessel you need.  photograph by Jeyhoun Allebaugh

An oyster is a gnarly thing determined to keep us out, but an oysterman can pry one open with a pop and twist of a knife in one fluid motion. I lifted the half shells to my lips, tilted back my head, and received the cold, clean, metallic, sweet, salty oyster — the unmistakable taste and texture of nature’s original sliders.

I appreciate how raw oysters include sips of the briny waters from whence they came, what some call their merroir. There are plenty of fish in the sea, but only those oysters could tell the story of that piece of our coast.

I’d waited decades to finally venture onto that glistening water, but my oyster odyssey started much earlier, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, of all places. My grandaddy, who was born in 1911, used to tell me stories from his boyhood in Watauga County. Daddy Fred, as I called him, remembered riding with his dad in a Model T to a whistle-stop somewhere in the high peaks, bundled up against the December cold. They’d await a train that had chugged and puffed along winding tracks from the coast all the way into the deep hollers. He recalled his curiosity and anticipation as workers unloaded wooden barrels of oysters still in their shells, buried in chipped ice.

Oystermen like Ryan Bethea of Oysters Carolina brave our cold waters to harvest what many in our state consider to be a Christmas delicacy. photograph by Baxter Miller

Back then, fresh oysters reached remote parts of the mountains only when it was cold enough for such perishables to travel safely, often just in time for Christmas. I cannot imagine how exotic those oysters must have tasted to that mountain boy, each one a tiny, magical conveyance of the Atlantic to an Appalachian table. His mother used those far-fetched and dear-bought oysters to make the family’s annual Christmas stew.

It’s easy enough for me, two generations later, to find impeccable fresh North Carolina oysters almost all year long. Yet despite that bounty, it’s possible to eat Christmas oyster stew only at Christmastime, and so I do.

Each year, I make a bubbling potful in tribute to my beloved Daddy Fred and his taste for adventure. I let the oysters tell me their origin story, too. As I stir the pot, I watch for their edges to ruffle like the hem of a wave sliding up the edge of our coastline. I pause and blow on each spoonful between bites, to focus my appreciation and ensure that I will never slurp this legacy for granted. Merroir Christmas, y’all.

photograph by Tim Robison

Christmas Oyster Stew

Traditional recipes for oyster stew are often little more than fresh oysters in hot milk. This one gets an upgrade from bacon, vegetables, and seasoning without overwhelming the oysters. Unless you have access to fresh oysters and shucking know-how, the surest path to a pint of shucked oysters is to buy them from a seafood vendor or well-stocked grocery store. Look for jars of freshly shucked oysters displayed on crushed ice, not cooked oysters in tins. Add the oysters and cook briefly before serving. When their edges curl, they’re ready.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

1 pint freshly shucked oysters with their liquid
1½ to 2 cups high-quality bottled clam juice or seafood stock, as needed
4 ounces smoky bacon, diced
1 cup finely diced onion
½ cup finely diced celery
Pinch of salt
¼ cup all-purpose flour
½ cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons dry sherry, such as fino or amontillado
Juice of ½ lemon (about 1 tablespoon)
Kosher salt, ground black pepper, and ground cayenne pepper, to taste
Scallions, thinly sliced (for garnish)
Lemon zest (for garnish)
Bacon Bow Crackers (for serving, recipe follows)

Pour the oysters into a fine-mesh sieve set over a large measuring cup to collect their liquid (known as oyster liquor). Refrigerate the oysters until needed. Add enough clam juice to the liquor to total 2½ cups of liquid.

In a large saucepan over medium heat, cook bacon until browned and crisp, about 10 minutes, stirring often. Transfer the bacon to a bowl and set aside, leaving the fat in the pot. Add onion, celery, and salt into the bacon fat. Cook until vegetables start to soften, about 2 minutes, stirring often. Sprinkle in flour and stir to coat. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring continuously.

Stir in the oyster liquor mixture. Cook until smooth, bubbling, and thick, about 5 minutes, stirring slowly and continuously. Stir in cream. Cook only until the liquid begins to steam; do not let it boil. Add reserved oysters. Cook only until their edges begin to ruffle, 1 to 3 minutes, depending on their size.

Remove pan from heat. Stir in the sherry and lemon juice. Season the stew with salt, black pepper, and cayenne pepper.

While stew is warm, quickly ladle into serving bowls and garnish with the reserved bacon, scallions, and lemon zest. Serve with crackers on the side.

photograph by Tim Robison

Bacon Bow Crackers

Yield: 24 pieces.

8 thin-cut bacon slices (about 6 ounces)
24 rectangular butter crackers (such as Club, Captain’s Wafers, or Waverly)

Preheat oven to 250°. Set a wire rack inside a rimmed baking pan.

Cut bacon slices crosswise into thirds. Wrap a piece around the center of each cracker, slightly overlapping the ends. A gentle stretch of the cut bacon pieces makes for an easier wrap.

Arrange the crackers seam-side down in a single layer on the wire rack, spacing them about 1 inch apart.

Bake 1½ hours or until the bacon browns, crisps, and constricts around the center of each cracker. Remove the pan from the oven and let the crackers cool completely on the rack before serving.