The Dueling Oysters

An old adage warns foodies to never eat oysters during months ending with an "R." On a recent trip to New Orleans in October, this warning was backed by a scare from the FDA alerting ostraphiles of a potentially deadly bacteria raging through Gulf oysters. In 2011, all oysters hailing from the warm waters of the Gulf may have to be subjected to a sterilization process depriving the heavenly mollusks of all their flavor, texture, and appeal. Lucky for me, however, I have a thriving immune system and one week to indulge in all the slimy, salty, gooey oysters the French Quarter has to offer.

A newbie to New Orleans is always inundated with dining suggestions. For the best raw oysters in town, Brennan's on Bourbon was given to me before I left. The locals said "overpriced and overrated." Felix's at 739 Iberville of Royal was another one but reputation aside, it was small, dirty-looking, and lacking any atmosphere. Digs outside the French Quarter (Drago's, Pascal's, Cooter Brown's) also came highly recommended, but as my belly growled with hunger for the salty creatures, I lacked the wherewith all to catch a cab. Instead, I barreled through the French Quarter looking for a name I overheard a handful of times since touching down in the airport: "Acme."

The Acme Oyster House, at 724 Iberville Street between Bourbon and Royal, is rich in history... kind of. In 1910, the Acme Cafe opened on Royal Street and served locals traditional New Orleans fare. In 1924, after a disastrous fire swept through the Quarter, the restaurant moved to its present location and started serving their famous char-grilled oysters. The bar also boasts a "Poet's Corner" a la Westminster Abbey. Allegedly, this was a niche for famous wordsmiths of the Quarter wanting to gulp down oysters in seclusion. Today, patrons who choose to sit in this section are subject to ridicule from the servers while being surrounded by quirky quotes and idioms.

As I round the corner of Bourbon and Iberville clutching a grossly sugary daiquiri, the line cinching around the building could only mean one thing. "Forty-five minute wait," mumbles the hostess who could barely look me in the eye while delivery this blow. I couldn't do it. No way. Not when it's a busy Friday afternoon and I have a full week's worth of time to hit this place up after a lunch rush. However, I was now officially intrigued with Acme. The sign in the window reading "Waitress Available Sometimes" reflects the restaurant's charming appeal and the place is bursting at the seems, so a return effort is most certainly called for.

Time to execute plan B. I need a roomy space to enjoy these oysters. I want a restaurant with sweet Louisiana winds blowing in through large open french windows. As I turn the corner at Royal and St. Louis streets, my desires are met at the Royal House restaurant, located at 441 Royal St. For what seems to be a no-name spot, the Royal House has it all, boasting a large granite oyster bar, spanning half the restaurant with a grand mirrored backdrop. A well-lit, spotless, and cozy dining room embraces the tourist and local alike, bestowing authentic creole cuisine and fresh Gulf oysters at a moderate price. Not bad for having a location one block off Bourbon Street.


After settling in at the oyster bar with a fizzy gin and tonic, I ordered a dozen raw. The oyster shucker was fast, friendly, and talkative. After showing me how to properly shuck an oyster, he presented me with an icy plate of the slimy suckers. One after another, I dressed them with a tiny bit of cocktail sauce and a dab of horseradish, and slid them down my gullet. The salty dressing and ocean water coated my tongue. The wet, tangy flesh wrapped around my teeth. The cold, sweet oyster dropped down my throat and my experience was complete. I left the Royal House feeling accomplished, please with the service and delighted with the oysters.

Sleeping in on Saturday morning allowed me to wake up with an oyster craving at a decent, decidedly less busy hour. Bourbon Street the morning after a big party night is lousy with pools of beer, beads crunching under your feet, and sleepy strippers still trying to lure in guests in A.M. hours. However, a beacon shined over this mess as I turned down Iberville to find only a handful of patrons in line for Acme Oyster House.

After only about ten minutes, I found a seat at the bar and was reading over the large menu which boasted standard creole fare - po' boys, etouffee, and fried seafood platters. Having my raw desires satiated yesterday, I ordered up a dozen of their famous char-grilled oysters on the half shell. Supposedly, Acme was the first to char-grill these pillows of salty seafood. Many oyster houses in the Quarter followed, including the Royal House, and tried to perfect the recipe.

Showing up on a glossy black tray, shells resting in stones of salt, the char-grilled oysters bubbled in buttery pools, topped with melted, crispy Parmesan cheese. One doesn't need lemon, cocktail sauce, or horseradish for these already flavorful bites. Obviously, the butter and cheese cover up the briny oyster taste for those not willing to take a dive into the world of the raw. For the oyster purist, the real taste is in there somewhere toward the end of the bite, but after a dozen of the char-grilled, the raw wonders will beckon one back.

Acme's char-grilled oysters are yummy, warming, and satisfying, but not the show-stoppers I anticipated. Still hungry after my serving, I asked for a crawfish po-boy and another round of drinks. Feeling rushed by the nosey servers, I vacuumed up the sandwich (the Tabasco-infused mayo is clutch) and grabbed a plastic cup for my drink.

After a few hours of wandering around the Quarter, taking pictures of houses I want to live in one day, I waited for my belly to growl with hunger again for I knew what I must do. At five in the afternoon, I waltzed into the Royal House and ordered up a dozen of their char-grilled beauties. They were bigger (key since their plump bodies seem to tighten up during the cooking process), the cheese was mightier, and the buttery sauce was more tangy and infused with herbs. Feeling relaxed in the Royal House's casual atmosphere, I lounged around all night, switching between raw and char-grilled.

While Acme had me debating between the two versions, the Royal House has me now enjoying both, all in the comfort of a low-pressure, breezy restaurant. Even though Acme was the big-name contender, their oysters proved only to be good enough for the mindless tourist, merely stopping in to see what all the fuss is about. The Royal House is for true ostraphiles on a hunt to relish in these treasures of the Gulf.