Phil Banks is crazy about oysters. The Garner native owns a vacation home with his wife, Erica, at Carolina Beach, where the couple have been such loyal customers at Shuckin' Shack Oyster Bar that they've become friends with the owners.
Banks realized a longtime dream when he opened Shuck 'Em Shack in his hometown. With his favorite beach haunt as inspiration, he transformed the strip mall location into an authentically rustic oyster bar with a screen door entrance, lighting fashioned from inverted oyster buckets, and rolls of paper towels on tabletops laminated with tide tables and snapshots of fishermen with their catch. He stocked the coolers with Gulf Coast oysters and opened the doors in December 2009.
The timing couldn't have been worse. Four months later, the Gulf oil spill decimated the oyster harvest, choking off a major source for seafood restaurants and driving the price of oysters from the East Coast and elsewhere through the roof. Some restaurants responded by temporarily removing oysters from their menus, while upscale establishments simply raised their prices accordingly. For a new oyster bar trying to build a reputation based on the casual (and affordable) "shack" model, neither was an option.
Fresh is back
"Oysters is what we're about," says Banks, though the menu does offer alternatives, including burgers, peel 'n' eat shrimp and a modest selection of fried seafood. To solve his problem, he turned to less expensive clustered oysters from Stump Sound. Because their shells are joined in clumps, clustered oysters are notoriously difficult to clean. And, as it turns out, many of them were muddy. Needless to say, these oysters did not earn Shuck 'Em Shack the reputation Banks was hoping for.
The restaurant was able to muddle through, though, I suspect largely on the strength of the restaurant's escapist charm (as well as the popularity of its hometown owner, who clearly knows many customers by name). Eventually, the oyster shortage eased up somewhat.
By the time I was able to stop in a few weeks ago, the restaurant was serving fresh oysters from Apalachicola, Fla. And I'm happy to report that, without exception, they were plump and clean. Raw or steamed, the price is a reasonable $11.99 a dozen. Shuck 'em yourself, and steamed oysters are only $13.99 a half peck, $24.99 a peck.
At least, that's the theory. In reality, you may wind up shucking the oysters yourself regardless. The wait staff/shuckers are friendly and eager to please, but the dining room was understaffed both times I visited. As a result, I wound up shucking the "dozen shucked" myself (though, to be fair, our server did apologize). Raw oysters were served on the half shell as promised, but they hadn't been separated from the shell.
Of the other dishes I sampled, Old Bay-dusted peel 'n' eat shrimp are the best of a mostly average lot. That goes for the fried seafood offering, which includes the usual suspects of flounder, oysters, scallops, shrimp and clam strips. The house specialty Shack Shrimp, which serves up fried popcorn shrimp lightly tossed in a moderately spicy orange sauce, is a refreshing change of pace.
Fritters are a bargain
Hushpuppies are not bad for a commercial product, though the Southerner in me cringes at paying $1.99 for a dozen. In comparison, the conch fritters - big as golf balls and generously laden with bits of the chewy-tender critters- are a bargain at $7.99 for five. The best bet on the appetizer list, though, is oysters Rockefeller - reminding you that oysters are indeed what Shuck 'Em Shack is all about.
If your sweet tooth is aching for a taste of the shore, funnel cake fries - crisp and authentically greasy, drizzled with chocolate syrup and sprinkled with powdered sugar - will transport you to the boardwalk in a trice.
True to oyster shack tradition, Shuck 'Em Shack is a compact eatery, seating only 48 at seven tables and the bar. Come warm weather, you can dine on the patio, where with a little imagination, you can summon up a suitably beachy feel. If you really want to get in the mood, you might even play a game of cornhole between courses.
