Bill O’Boyle

Beyond the Byline: The evasive oyster stew

PLYMOUTH — So, I’ve been trying to find oyster stew — any version — in restaurants, grocery stores, even my memory.

I really wanted to taste that delicious brew again.

Why? Because my Mom made it for my Dad and we all enjoyed it. We would add a little more butter, some salt and pepper and oyster crackers, of course.

Since I couldn’t find oyster stew anywhere, I decided to try to make it.

I failed — miserably.

Sing along, if you will, to my “Ode to Oyster Stew.”

It’s easy they said

Nothing to dread

It really can be done

You’ll see. It will be fun

So I bought all the stuff

That wasn’t so tough

Threw it in a pot

And waited for it to get hot

I stirred and stirred

’Cuz that’s what you do I heard

Didn’t take too long

So what could go wrong?

Everything that’s what

Oyster Stew it’s not

And that is my tale

Of my Oyster Stew fail!

October is my birth month and every year I get more than a little misty when I think of those olden days and my Mom and Dad and my birthday parties with family and friends and so much fun.

But I really think about Mom and Dad — Mom’s birthday was Sept. 25, and Dad’s is Nov. 21.

So who wants to share a sardine sandwich with me? Or a stick of pepperoni? Or some oyster stew?

These are just a few of my Dad’s favorite snacks back in the day. And my Mom knew just how to serve them all.

These were our late-night, TV-watching snacks that we loved so much. And, of course, all were served to Dad with a bottle of ice cold beer.

The sardine sandwich was made with bread and butter, some sliced onion, salt and pepper and ketchup. Dad absolutely loved them. I couldn’t get past the smell, although I did take a bite one time and, to be truthful, it was my last taste of Dad’s beloved delicacy.

I did take the concept a bit further though — buttered bread, onion, bread and butter pickles, no sardines, and yum, a great sandwich. I sometimes added a slice of cheese and light salt and pepper.

Pepperoni is another favorite I shared with my Dad. “Leave the skin on,” he would say. Maybe some potato chips too.

Now let’s move on to that oyster stew. Mom would make it and she would put a lot of oysters in it. She would serve it with a dollop of butter in the middle. We would add salt and pepper.

Now this was so good we would often have seconds. Oyster crackers were a must to add.

So I went shopping last week and I purchased salted butter, milk and two cans of oysters. Here is where I think the recipe failed.

Fresh oysters would have been the way to go, for sure.

Anyway, I cooked it all in a pot and added, as per a recipe I found, a little Worcestershire sauce, some Old Bay seasoning and I cooked it ever so carefully, making sure I did not bring this concoction to a boil.

I filled a bowl, added a dollop or two of butter and salt and pepper and — yuk!

It was awful. It tasted nothing like I recall. I was disappointed as I threw together a baloney sandwich for my dinner.

I challenge you to find oyster stew today — anywhere. There was a stand at the Bloomsburg Fair for years that served great oyster stew. That guy hasn’t been at the Fair for years. Campbell’s used to sell oyster stew in a can, but that has disappeared from the shelves. And you never see it offered on restaurant menus anywhere.

I was hoping to be able to successfully make oyster stew and serve it to myself on my birthday. I would imagine my Mom and Dad at the table with me and I could see the big box of oyster crackers.

My dad also liked things like ice cold buttermilk with salt and pepper. He used it to wash down pickled hard boiled eggs and Spam sandwiches, not to mention occasional scrapple and egg breakfasts.

This was what guys like my dad enjoyed. But how many of these delicious items are still enjoyed today?

My Dad and his generation — “the Greatest Generation” — learned the value of sardine sandwiches, pepperoni and potato chips and oyster stew, and buttermilk and pickled hard-boiled eggs and more.

My goal is to try once again to make oyster stew this week. I do have my Mom’s Betty Crocker Cookbook that she used to make wonderful dishes. It even has handwritten notes Mom would make to enhance and improve some of Betty Crocker’s recipes.

I will follow that recipe and hope for the best.

If I fail again, I will then hop in the Way Back Machine and head to Reynolds Street in Plymouth and rush in and as the screen door bangs as it closes behind me, I will take my seat at the table and join Mom and Dad for oyster stew with crackers once again.

A virtual experience, maybe.

But it’s a memory that will never fade.