Summer heat (sans air conditioning) provides a great excuse to lie around the apartment and ponder. Yukari Rymar  feels the sweat bead on her forehead and thinks deep thoughts: "cold showers are great,"  "why hate on freon?" and "I wish it was winter," she murmers  The mercury rises, and deeper she slips, deeper into delirium....

 

 

"Winter in Tokyo , December '91.  I sit under the kotatsu in the living room.  Mama fixes a midday snack in the kitchen.  I watch the cartoon Chibi Maruko-chan.  A commercial for Cup Ramen starring Arnold Schwarzenneger--seriously--comes on the screen, and I turn my attention away in time to see Mama put a dish down on the table.

 

"The plate steams.  It's piled high with deep fried oyster croquettes.  Or as the Japanese call it--kaki fry."

 

 

 

Kaki fry is the perfect dish to serve in cold weather.  It doesn't just pack literal heat.  Once you sink your teeth past the crunchy panko breading, the sharp oyster taste kicks a tart reminder of summer months to come.  It's like the Christmas gift that keeps on giving.  And the Japanese don't even celebrate that holiday!

 

Of course, most of my American friends know oysters best on the half shell, a delicacy I didn't experience until I was 18 in New Orleans .  I won't lie; I hesitated when the waiter first set down the platter of those slimy little critters.  They looked alien on the bed of crushed ice, quivering in their forcibly opened homes.  But I spritzed them with lemon wedges and bravely went in for the plunge.  My tongue has thanked me ever since.

 

Granted, oysters on the half shell aren't for everyone.  Jordan Green, a former line cook for Aquagrill, confessed that even he found the raw bivalves a little unpleasant.

 

 

"I genuinely don't like oysters," says Green, though his back-of-the-house work for one of Manhattan 's premier oyster bars puts him in constant contact with them.  "I'll eat 'em, but I'm not gonna be the person who's like 'you guys want that last oyster?'"

 

 

Oyster lovers and novices alike can visit restaurants like Aquagrill, which offers 25-30 different varieties everyday.  You can also order them online from suppliers like Wild Edibles, which delivers them on the half shell for free to all Manhattan dwellers below

99th Street

.  Even more fun, though, is to buy the suckers live  and shuck them yourself.  Be sure to give them a good whiff once they arrive; Green warns: "If it smells funky at all, it' s not fresh.  Throw 'em out."

 

 

To shuck: absolutely absolutely invest in an oyster knife.  They're cheap and will save you loads of trouble-like grafting your hand back on.  Get one with a sturdy, slip-proof handle and a 2 3/4" blade.  Wear a kitchen glove or clench a towel in the oyster-holding hand for added protection.

 

Rub any dirt off the oysters under running water.  Then hold one with the pointy side (hinge) out and the flat side up (to keep the oyster liquor in the shell so the meat stays moist).  Insert the knife, with the tip pointed slightly up, about a half inch in, next to the hinge.    Run the knife around the shell until you hit the other side of the hinge.  Carefully pull the shell apart with your fingers, using the knife to free any remaining muscle from the top shell; discard the top shell.  Gently brush out any dirt within the opened oyster.  Taking care not to spill the oyster liquor, loosen the meat from the bottom shell by sliding the knife underneath it.  Serve on a plate of crushed ice with lemon wedges.

 

For the less adventurous, you're welcome to try Japanese kaki fry.  Once you've shucked your oysters, prepare some oil for frying.  Clean your invertebrates in a bowl of salted cold water.  Set out three separate bowls.  Heap the first with flour seasoned with salt and pepper.  Break some eggs into the second bowl and beat them violently.  Fill the last bowl with panko, specialty Japanese bread crumbs.  Dunk each oyster in this order: flour, eggs, panko.  Give them a few minutes rest to dry, then plop in the oil and fry until golden brown and floating.  Pat the croquettes on paper towels to soak off the excess grease.  Seat your guests on floor cushions and serve wearing floppy slippers for real Mama authenticity.

 

 

July might be the wrong month for kaki fry, but if you crank up the air conditioning, you can make believe it's January.  Just be sure to tell me about it afterwards.  I can live vicariously through your culinary experiences while sweating in my living room.