The Thrills and Chills of Hunting for Rare Oysters

The Thrills and Chills of Hunting for Rare Oysters

The Limfjord in Denmark has some of the best oysters in the world, including the rare original indigenous European variety—a delicious delicacy worth wading in for

By Jemima Sissons in the Wall Street Journal

THERE IS A STILLNESS about northern Denmark’s Limfjord that makes you want to whisper—but even if you raised your voice, nobody would hear you. There is no trace of humanity as far as the eye can see, other than a few wooden houses, painted in muted colors and shut up for the winter, that dot the shore. The water is inky black, the sky a gray that melts into the horizon. It’s Nordic Noir, right down to the sinewy birch trees lined up in ranks on the other side of the fjord.

I’ve come to the Limfjord to fish for some of the last wild oysters in Europe. Across most of the Continent, Ostrea edulis, the European oyster, is either farmed or has been supplanted by the larger, scraggier Pacific variety (European natives being the round, flat ones).

Although there are strict quotas for commercial use, members of the public are allowed to go and pick them for personal consumption. Thomas Johannes Juel Johansen, our guide, stresses they should be “not a meal but a snack”—no more than five per person, as a guideline. Indeed, at around £4 each from the Copenhagen fishmongers, these prized bivalves are a bit of a delicacy.

Although there are strict quotas for commercial use, members of the public are allowed to go to Northern Denmark’s Limfjord, near Roslev, to pick wild oysters—including the increasingly ...

Mr. Johansen explains that oysters must never be taken from above the water line, where, in the shallow water, the sun may have cooked them already. The water streams must be very cold, and away from harbors and human activity. And if the water is murky, it suggests pollution or algae, so oysters there should be avoided. But “just use your common sense,” he says. “Think, ‘Would I bathe in this?’ ” Brendan Austin for The Wall Street Journal

Sigrid Jacobsen from the Food Project contemplates the frigid waters of the fjord, where the geography makes for an oyster with a uniquely irony taste. Because the water is cold and the fjord is enclosed at both ends, the oysters don’t get as much food as they would in livelier waters, so they grow slowly and end up with a meaty, less slippery texture. Discovering some bounty at the bottom of the fjord. Heading back to camp where the oysters will be cooked over an open wood fire, and some will be smoked using a tin to infuse them with a woody aroma. The catch of the day includes both European oysters, which are round and flat, and the larger, scraggier Pacific variety. Shucking a Pacific oyster requires a proper oyster knife. You stick the tip in, wriggle it until you feel a give, slip the knife around the edge and pry the oyster apart. Any that smell odd or off, or which don’t have water inside, must be discarded. Oysters are served in this part of Denmark with sparkling wine or organic ale.

So we’ve come to a quiet spot near Roslev to seek them out in their natural habitat. The two-hour drive from our base in the university city of Aarhus takes us through open land, past horizontal trees flattened by the westerly winds. We meet Mr. Johansen, a local nature guide, at the end of a long lane. Then, it’s on with our waders—a special thermal winter variety that will keep us toasty as we submerge ourselves in the frigid waters of the Limfjord.

Armed with nets, we follow Mr. Johansen through birch woods, which he taps for syrup, past raspberry and rose bushes, until we reach the edge of the fjord. On a cold winter’s day we have the entire place to ourselves, but canoes and paddle boards lie abandoned, hinting at summer adventures past.

The geography here makes for a very different kind of oyster. The water is relatively enclosed, as the fjord only has small openings at either end, to the North Sea in the West and the Kattegat in the East. This means that the water stays still for much of the year, and as a result is “brewed” with minerals, which lends the oysters a uniquely irony taste. In addition, because the water is colder and the oysters don’t get as much food as they would in livelier waters, they grow slowly. This gives them an extremely meaty texture—you can bite into them easily, removing the problem of slipperiness, and having to down oysters in one gulp.

As we trudge over the sandy soil, past eelgrass and mounds of dulse, Mr. Johansen explains the all-important rules for sidestepping a bad oyster. First, he says, we must never take ones from above the water line. It isn’t until we near the edges of the fjord that we can see what he means. Many of the oysters are barely covered by the shallow water, where the sun may have cooked them already, so he always goes at least half a meter deep.

We’re instructed to stay 200-300 meters away from harbors, where there is as little human activity as possible. We must also stay away from where streams or rivers flow into the fjord. The water must be cold; if it feels chilly and continues to feel that way for 10 minutes or so, that’s cold enough for a healthy haul.

Last, if you cannot see the bottom, it may mean the water is polluted or has algae, so don’t go there. “Just use your common sense,” says Mr. Johansen. “Think, ‘Would I bathe in this?’ If the beach has a blue flag [indicating cleanliness], you are good to go.”

‘Many oysters are barely covered by the shallow water, where the sun may have cooked them already’

We wade in and glide through little empires of oysters—both the European and Pacific varieties are everywhere. There are also jellyfish (delicious de-tentacled and sliced like sushi, Mr. Johansen says), razor clams, mussels and crabs. Sadly, the native otters, seals and whales elude us today.

As we wade deeper, up to our upper thighs, we feel for oysters with our feet, then use a net to pull them up. We discover them by the dozen, but gluttony is frowned upon by our guide. “You have to think about the environment, respect it, and think, ‘Are there enough for next year too?’”

With our bounty in plastic bags, we head back to camp. There, a crackling fire heats oysters until they pop, and we use a smoking tin to infuse others with a wonderfully woody aroma. All that remains is the job of opening the elderflower schnapps to douse the raw oysters. Mr. Johansen ponders the fire and pours some wine. “This is pure enjoyment—energy for the soul,” he declares.

THE GUIDE // HOW TO SHUCK OYSTERS

1. Take a proper oyster knife. Rösle, a German brand, produces a hardwearing stainless steel version with a safety guard. £26;
divertimenti.co.uk

2. Take a tea towel and lay it on your forearm, palm side up, and over your hand.

3. Lay an oyster on your palm, the round part toward your wrist, the hinge toward your fingers.

4. Take the knife and find the hinge at the back of the oyster that holds the two sides of the shell together.

5. Stick the tip of the knife in and wriggle it until you feel it give inside.

6. Carefully slip the knife around the edge, between the halves of the shell, until you are able to open the oyster.

7. Pry the oyster apart. Keep the ones that smell of the ocean. Discard any oysters that smell odd or off.

8. It must have water in it—again, if it doesn’t, throw it out. If it does, just tip the water out.

9. Detach the oyster from its membrane with the knife, and you’re ready to serve it.

HOW TO SERVE OYSTERS

SIMPLE // Throw oysters on an open fire. Wait until they pop, around 10 minutes. Serve warm.

SMOKED // Heat some fruitwood chips in the bottom of your smoking tin (£39; souschef.co.uk ). Once it’s hot, add oysters and leave for 10 minutes.

SIDES // In Denmark, oysters are served on a wedge of sourdough and unsalted butter, with a few drops of elderflower schnapps to wash it down. Alternatively, create a compote: Take equal parts sweet apple and red onion, chop finely and add just enough white wine vinegar to cover. Spoon a small amount onto an oyster and eat.