Grilled Oysters, Northwest Style

If you live in the Northwest, sooner or later you need to learn to cook oysters. It's only right, really. Especially if, like me, you've no intention or desire to eat 'em on the half-shell with a little tabasco sauce.

This is dead easy, though, and absolutely about as authentic Northwest backyard cuisine as you'll ever find. Ready? Here we go!

Find an excellent local fresh seafood counter. I love VIS Seafoods in Bellingham, and they even Twitter what's fresh, daily. The guys at Pike's Market are good, too. If you're not sure what you're looking for, just tell 'em—they'll help. The fresh oysters you buy should feel heavy, as if they were full of water. They should smell like fresh sea, not fishy or strong. Plan between a half-dozen and a dozen oysters per person you're planning to feed, based in part on the rest of the menu you've planned.

Bring your oysters home, preferably packed in ice until you're ready to grill them. Scrub 'em up under cold water just before you pop 'em on the grill. If any of the shells are open, throw those oysters away—that mean's they're dead or dying, and you shouldn't eat them.

Okay, fire up your barbecue grill, using your preferred method. I really love natural chunk charcoal, rather than gas or briquet, but to each their own. Oysters really do have a delicate and lovely flavor, so you don't want to overpower that flavor with heavy or over-powering sauces. I like to use a little melted butter, roasted garlic, and lemon, mixed together. Just melt your favorite seafood complementary condiments together and set them aside on the back of the grill to stay warm.

Assemble an oven mitt or heavy glove, barbecue tongs, and a screwdriver or knife with a stout blade, and you should be all ready to get started.

When your charcoal is evenly hot and just covered with ash, place the oysters on the grill, with the cup side down. Within a few minutes, perhaps five or six, they'll be hissing and steam and boiling liquid begin to escape. Very often the shells will pop open a bit, at this point. With the stout short blade of a knife (or the aforementioned screwdriver) and your oven mitt, go ahead and pry the oysters open.

That's it. That's really all there is to it. If you'd like, you can sever the top part of the shell at this point, and serve your oysters basted in a a bit of your sauce spooned over them in the cup of their own shell. You can serve your oysters all at once, or put them on your guest's plates as they pop open, in a more informal arrangement.

Once you get the hang of this, then it gets really fun. You can pop a bit of cheese into the shell to melt, or chunks of crisp bacon. Heck, baste your oysters in butter and white wine, then add the bacon, a bit of roasted garlic, and the cheese.

Ultimately, my point is that this is easy, fun, attractive, quintessentially Northwest . . . and utterly delicious.