OLYMPIA – As people wandered by in ball gowns and tuxedos, “Oyster Bill” Whitbeck stood behind two wooden boxes full of crushed ice and a row of condiments.
Michael V. Martina / The Herald
With a damp towel draped over his right hand and his “Boston stabber” in his left hand, the Everett resident did what he does best for Gov. Christine Gregoire’s inauguration crowd.
He shucked.
And while he helped shuck 400 dozen oysters Wednesday night, he engaged ballgoers with his encyclopedic knowledge of shellfish.
Whitbeck, co-author of “The Joy of Oysters,” doesn’t just talk about mollusks. He gives dissertations – history, shellfish anecdotes, recipes and tips.
“I love talking to people about shellfish, especially oysters,” Whitbeck said.
To him, oysters are particularly romantic.
“Aphrodite was born out of an oyster shell, and she’s the goddess of love,” he said.
For two years, Whitbeck has worked as a sort of shellfish booster for Taylor Shellfish in Shelton. He travels to farmers markets in the Puget Sound region selling oysters, clams and mussels. He teaches people to shuck and cook. He even confers with local chefs.
It’s his knack for oyster outreach that earned him a spot shucking at Wednesday night’s ball.
The afternoon before the ball, Whitbeck said he brought a signed copy of his book for the new governor. He was prepared to approach her with his gift, “even if she’s eating.”
Apparently, there’s no need for a guy called Oyster Bill to come out of his shell. “I’m not shy,” he said, chuckling.
At the ball, Whitbeck and five other shuckers carefully arranged three types of half-shell oysters on the bed of ice.
To the unschooled, they look small, medium and large. To Whitbeck and his co-workers, it’s more nuanced. The largest and smoothest was the Virginica, native to the East Coast but now grown by Taylor. The craggy, middle-sized oyster was the Pacifica, native to Japan. The smallest, and a crowd favorite, was the Kamamato.
Like tea etiquette and soccer, shellfish are a subject on which many Americans need to be educated.
Whether at an inaugural ball or one of the many area farmers markets he frequents each week, oyster virgins should be aware that few get away without a taste. He even urges those who insist they don’t like oysters to give the little mollusks another chance.
“You must have had an old one – one that wasn’t fresh,” he’ll say.
Then he’ll grab one from his pile, press his knife into the beak of the shell, twist and pry the halves apart, careful not to let the oyster’s juices leak out.
“It should be full of juice, what’s called oyster liquor,” he’ll say.
Depending on what minerals exist in the water where the oyster was harvested, it could taste vaguely of citrus, watermelon or cucumbers.
“It’s a flavor that takes on the environment they live in,” Whitbeck said. “It’s like taking a bite out of the ocean.”
A bite of ocean, perhaps with of lemon or a dab of Tabasco.
He may even do a cheer – “Oysters, oysters, raw, raw, raw!”
Wednesday wasn’t his first shucking-for-celebrities gig.
In November, a chef from the Seattle Art Museum called Whitbeck to order 10 dozen oysters for a luncheon. He also asked for Whitbeck’s help shucking them. It was a big day. The luncheon’s guests of honor were King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia of Spain.
Unlike his front-and-center shucking at the inaugural ball, Whitbeck shucked oysters for the Spanish royalty from the museum’s kitchen. But he had to sneak a peek.
“The king and queen were in the corner of the room. They couldn’t be in the middle, because no one can sit behind them,” he said. “They were handsome. Nicely dressed.”
As Wednesday evening wore on, Gregoire was still nowhere in sight. Of course, with more than 3,500 advance tickets sold for the ball at $75 a turn, it was no small house party. The new governor was not at the door taking coats.
The party filled all four floors of the Capitol, and also a white tent snaking around the outside of the building.
The oyster table was popular, even more so than the sushi or the mini cheesecakes.
As the band spun from “Mustang Sally” to “Louie Louie,” Whitbeck was in his element.
When people slurped, Oyster Bill smiled.
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