Here's a Perfect Restaurant Dish for Your New Year's Eve Feast

HOUSTON, TX — When it comes to oysters, I count myself among the people who prefer the ones that hail from the cooler waters of the east and west coasts. Malpeques, Kumamotos, Blue Points, Kusshis ... merely thinking about them makes me salivate. I've never been a big fan of the bivalves that are pulled from the waters in the Gulf, with one exception.

Roasted. I love eating roasted Gulf oysters. It's the best reason to drive south toward Galveston, because there's a place called Gilhooley's, and when you sit outside in the tavern's courtyard and order a few dozen oysters that are roasted over an open fire, you are spending an afternoon or evening in a delicious manner.
In Houston, I recently dined on some perfect roasted Gulf oysters; I was at State of Grace, and Bobby Matos, the restaurant's executive chef, prepared six for us, roasted over oak. Large, plump Gulf oysters (though these weren't overly large), nestled on a tray that also carried a charred lemon half. Visually, a beautiful dish, we all said.

Then, after one bite and, yes, a slurp, the visual aesthetic became secondary. Oh, the bone marrow and seaweed butter. The butter-fried sourdough croutons. The tender, hot, and salty oysters. In those shells everything mingled and mixed — including the touch of Calabrian chili peppers — and became an ethereal, yet comforting and solid, course.

Squirt a bit of the lemon over each one, pick up a shell if you wish, as I did, and gently lift it to your lips. Tilt the oyster, then sip the liquid. Salinity, a bit of heat, the decadent bone marrow. Your small fork will help you extract the oyster from its home, and be sure to roll it in some of the croutons, because their crunch elevates this to something remarkable. A glass of Picpoul de Pinet should be near you. Drink some of the wine after your first bite of this concoction. You need nothing more. You get two oak-roasted oysters for $7.