Oysters Part I: Backstory

I haven’t always liked oysters. For me, it was one of those things that came with age. Perhaps it was my palate changing or it could have been my increased appreciation for the things that typically come with oysters. The friends. The drinks. The setting. Oysters belong to a rare class of food that carry meaning beyond the plate. They are not just a cold, salty shellfish— they are an agreement to slow down and enjoy yourself. There is something about ordering oysters that feels indulgent. It’s like you and whoever you are sharing them with are agreeing to have a good time. No checking emails or watching the clock. You’re in for good food, drinks, and company.

Oysters also differ in that they are one of a handful of foods whose location of origin is scrutinized—and with surprising detail. You don’t just order oysters from Maryland. You don’t even order oysters from the Chesapeake Bay for that matter, you order oysters from a specific farm or river, like the Choptank or the Rappahannock.

Due to the risks posed by a “bad oyster”, we all have an understanding that oysters need to be fresh and from clean waters. If you ask a waiter where the restaurant’s oysters came from and they shrug and say, “I don’t know”, you, understandably, might opt for something safer.

This necessity of freshness and the variance of taste posed by an oyster’s origin has a way of pulling us back to the land. In a world of complex supply chains where 99% of the time we don’t know where our food comes from (before the grocery store), oysters demand our attention. Just naming their origin pulls our focus to the coastlines of Rhode Island, Maryland, Virginia, or wherever they came from. It is a reminder that our coastal waters are filled with life and on a deeper level gives us reason for keeping that coastline clean.

The more I have learned about oysters, the more remarkable they have become to me. Beyond the culinary delight, they are inextricably tied to the ecological history of our coastline. While humans have enjoyed eating oysters for hundreds of years, it wasn’t until more recently that we realized their ecological importance.

The oyster is a keystone species— that is, a species whose existence plays a critical role in shaping their broader ecosystem. Without them, the entire ecosystem’s structure and stability would be at risk.

While they may look simple on a plate, the oyster plays many key roles in its ecosystem. Three of the most critical being:

1. Oysters are filter feeders, with each oyster filtering 50+ gallons of water per day— removing excess nutrients and creating clean, clear water

2. Oysters create reef-like structures, which give texture to the seafloor and create habitat for fish and other marine life

3. Those same reef-like structures play a similar role to sandbars, limiting the erosion on our coastline that results from rising tides and harsh weather events

Without the oyster, our coastlines would lose so much. And this is an unfortunate story we have seen play out in several of our largest estuaries on the East Coast. Perhaps none more so than the New York Harbor, whose historic 220,000 acres of oyster beds dwindled to virtually nothing in the span of ~150 years.

Let this edition of Overstory serve as the Backdrop to my three part series on oysters. In the next edition, I will dive deeper into what drove the oysters’ demise. Remarkable as they are, their story doesn’t stop there. Part III will focus on the recent conservation efforts, the oyster’s resilience, and their subsequent rebirth.