And it is from a seat there - with access to O.T.C. crackers, horseradish, and a close-up of master shuckers Ameen Lawrence and Cornell Rhodes plying their shell-craft - that my friend finally relaxed. He even cracked a smile when a gorgeous platter of bivalves arrived, each meticulously shucked and glistening in a pool of its own liquor.
The Chincoteagues awakened our palates with a nice salty pop. The milder West Coast Royal Miyagis weren't as firm, but delivered a creamy, cucumber savor. The Connecticut Mystics from Fishers Island Sound had a mellow saltiness that lingered with sweet tidal warmth. The tender Wellfleets were like gulps of Cape Cod Bay. But it was the little Pemaquids that made us cheer: Those small but mighty Mainers washed our taste buds with a brisk oceanic rinse.
With just a few slurps, all was right with the world. After a hollow year in which Center City nearly lost all its classic fish houses - for the first time in more than a century! - the Oyster House's rebirth is a welcome reaffirmation of our roots, even if this new edition is strikingly different from its older self.
It is in so many ways a big improvement over the tottering relic it had become before its previous owner lost it to bankruptcy. Back now with its original caretakers, the Mink family, third-generation owner Sam Mink, 33, has recast it boldly into modern form, from decor changes to draw energy and a youthful crowd, to a bright young staff that knows its oysters, a quality cocktail bar, beer and wine list, and a kitchen that updates the classics with seasonal ingredients and a lighter touch.
