The New Skills Part Two (and full disclosure about timing)

The New Skills, part 2, Oysters Katheryn

Hello, and welcome to the second installment of the series in which I learn a new dish every week for a year. For this week's installment, in celebration of Mardi Gras, I am showcasing a New Orleans dish I have always enjoyed, Oysters Katheryn.

But wait, you say, it isn't Mardi Gras at all! True, you got me on that one. When I started this project, it was the end of February. I spent two months learning and photographing dishes without blogging them, to create a back-log of material. That way, the project's oppressive schedule can't become too much of a burden if I need to take a week off or something. Most of them I can just sneak in, as needed, but this one was at our annual Mardi Gras dinner, so its time-stamped.

So anyway, Oysters Kathryn. It is one of New Orleans' signature oyster dishes. NO is definitely an oyster town. From plates of shitty raw Gulf Selects at the Acme to buttery heaps of fake-garlicky awesomeness at Drago's, to cyclopean po'boys at Crabby Jack's, oysters are one of the first southern city's absolute favorite things.

One of the most popular styles of oyster dish in Creole cuisine is what I'm calling the 'pop, top, and broil' style. The oysters are popped open raw, topped with a filling, and then broiled (or baked) until the topping is browned and bubbly.

The grandaddy of them all is Oysters Rockefeller. Originating at Antoine's, these oysters are topped with a mixture of watercress, Herbsaint, garlic, breadcrumbs, and butter (or something like that, the actual recipe is a closely guarded secred). This is the dish that has been imitated, copied, and spun off in a thousand different ways. (I have seen Fried Oysters 'Rockefeller Style,' and have actually eaten Oysters Rockefeller Soup. Side note: in NO back-of-house restaurant parlance, the dish is charmingly referred to as O-Roc.)

Down the street from Antoine's is Arnaud's, another of the New Orleans Dinosaurs (along with Broussards, Tujague's, and Galatoire's). Not to be outdone, their signature pop-top-and-broil is the Oyster Bienville, named for the street Arnaud's is on. This one is topped with a sherry cream sauce studded with mushrooms and shrimp, and I thought it was my favorite. Then, at Arnaud's one evening, I ordered a sampler, which had many different oysters to try, and my clear, new favorite was Oysters Kathryn.

Named for one of the restaurant's owners kids (the blond and kinda hot Katy Casbarian) in 1979, this oyster is popped and topped with a mixture of artichokes, butter, breadcrumbs, and tomato. (Or so I thought, more on that later.) It was absolutely fantastic! I asked the waiter, and this one (unlike the Rockefeller and Bienville, which had been imitated all over town) was an Arnaud's exclusive. I liked it so much I bought the cookbook a year later, just to get at the recipe.

This was where I ran into trouble. The recipe in the book doesn't match what I remembered having. It contained parmesan cheese, which I try to keep away from my mollusks as a matter of course (I belong to the Nate Whiting school of thought on this topic, that is, no cheese with fish unless that fish happens to be an anchovy). Also, there was no tomato component to be found. I distinctly remembered tomato. Lastly, the cookbook used canned artichokes, which I disapprove of, but was not surprised by. Fresh artichokes are hellaciously labor-intensive.

SIDEBAR- Artichokes and me, an obsession: Artichokes are one of my favorite vegetables. They are expensive, so I don't use them a whole lot. A case of two dozen can run almost a hundred bucks! When I clean them, I use the method outlined in the French Laundry cookbook. This is the standard method in high-end kitchens. When you are done, all that's left is the heart, smooth and round and spotless, and whatever section of the stem is tender enough to eat. It is a difficult job, but when I was at Woodlands I set out to be the fastest artichoke cleaner in the world. (This was a natural response to having to clean a case of the bastards daily, may as well have some fun with it.) In the beginning, a case of 24 would take me like 40 minutes. After a little work, I got beneath the 1-minute-per-choke mark, and after a month I could do it in 17 minutes. My record for a case was 14 minutes. After that one, the chef, Tarver 'SuperKing' King, took a look, and looked at me very solemnly and said:

“Jesse, I am impressed. You are now, confirmed, the fastest artichoke cleaner in the world. You did a case in under fifteen minutes, and that is a hell of an accomplishment. Next time, do you mind taking twenty, and maybe doing a little bit better of a job?”

So anyway, I had this book, and I had this vision of what the dish was in my head, and they didn't match. I could explain away the cheese. Despite my philosophical objection, there was cheese in several of my favorite oyster dishes (most notably the amazing chargrilled oysters at Drago's), and I like them just the same. I could handle the canned artichokes. I mean, everyone uses them. But the lack of a tomato component, that was such an important part of the chord that I remembered, and it wasn't there! I even checked Arnaud's website, reasoning that they may have added some later, after the book was published, but nothing doing.

Mardi Gras was approaching fast, and I had to make a decision. Did I make Oysters Kathryn from the book, or did I try to truly express the dish as I thought appropriate? I decided to do both. I would faithfully recreate the recipe from the book, and I would also make my own spin on the dish, and call it Oysters Kathy Peterson, after a friend of mine (who happens to be a super-villain).

The Raw Materials: For oysters, I spent $54 on a bushel of Seaside Salts, from Virginia. (The appropriate oyster for this dish would really be Louisiana Gulf Selects, but they are not locally available in South Carolina, and also kind of shitty.) They were briny, plump, extremely fresh, and exquisite. I can't understand why they were so cheap, except that maybe they were sized really inconsistently, but for a broiler, that's really no big deal. They were definitely good enough to serve raw, which is a good barometer for oyster quality.

The Kathryn Topping (15 minutes): From the Arnaud's Cookbook (which I honestly can't recommend, its a little lightweight), the filling is made by mixing minced canned artichoke hearts, breadcrumbs, egg, heavy cream, fresh basil, parmesan, and lemon juice. Its really easy, no cooking necessary. Its easy to work with, and it browns up nicely.

The Kathy Peterson Topping (45 minutes): I cleaned artichokes by hand, and cooked them in salted water with lemon. I then diced them up and mixed them with an equal quantity of room temperature whole butter. I sprinkled in some chiffonade basil. For a tomato component, I mixed 50/50 canned crushed tomatoes and Heinz Chilli Sauce (a condiment I don't completely understand and am kind of intrigued by) and put it into a Clairol tint bottle, which is the squeeze bottle preferred by the real pros (you can buy them at Sally Beauty Supply). Every oyster got a spoon full of the artichoke butter, a drizzle of the tomato spoo, and a sprinkling of breadcrumbs.

All these went onto a tray of rock salt and into a 450F oven until they were starting to brown. My oven isn't very badass, so this took a while.

The verdict: Well, I liked my spin better. Obviously. It was a split decision. One partygoer said he marginally preferred mine, and qualified that with the statement that he would have said that, even if I hadn't recently threatened him with physical violence if he expressed a preference for the canned, cheesey version. But other people liked the restaurant ones better, and I had to admit, they were pretty good. I think mine came out on top. People were too drunk to just be being polite, and I only threatened that one guy.

Professional Application: Limited. These are amazing, and they would sell, but they are also the signature dish of another restaurant, and copying a signature dish, even in a different market, can be a sticky wicket. On the other hand, now that I have brilliantly and effectively introduced tomato into the mix, perhaps I can sell it at will...

Beverage Pairing: Jesus, it was Mardi Gras. We were drinking EVERYTHING. But I think a nice glass of very, very dry champagne (to combat the odd taste-warping effects of the oxalic acid in the artichokes) would have been just the ting.

Final Thought: Well, memory can be a funny thing. I was SURE there was a tomato component on the Kathryns. And I was wrong. My other takeaway is that parmesan cheese, while gauche, is not NECESSARILY disgusting on shellfish. Don't tell Nate Whiting.