Sitting in my rocking chair on the second floor veranda, reading with a good book as live jazz drifts up from the front porch below—it doesn’t get more relaxing than this. Well, okay, maybe it does, when I can take an afternoon nap as the lightly-draped windows let in a salt-scented breeze. Apalachicola is a timeless beauty, and it’s somewhere you can get lost in time. But I’m on a mission, too. I’m in search of the Holy Grail, the oyster. There are none better than those that come from Apalachicola, or so I’ve discovered from years of haunting seafood restaurants along the Gulf. Now, I’m finally at the source.  

Our getaway begins in the breezy entryway of the Gibson Inn (www.gibsoninn.com), circa 1907, where the hallways and door jambs are a little out of kilter and the solid wood floors creak a bit underfoot, but it’s all part of the charm. Thirty rooms, each carefully resorted in 1985 and decked out in antique furnishings, are surrounded by two stories of wrap-around porches. Rooms with exterior doors are pet-friendly. Ours is a cozy corner just above the jazz musician entertaining folks sharing a glass of wine, and I spend several hours just reading and listening. That evening, we sample the fine dining of Avenue Sea, the in-house bistro making news with its cuisine. Call it “petite dining,” as our waitress reminds us, the portions are small, and they are—except for the oysters. These are no wimps in size. Poached, they are soft and light, with a twist of citrus to add a sharp bite, and presented on the half shell in a bed of sea salt.  

The next day, we stop at the Apalachicola Seafood Grill, a downtown landmark since 1903, where each table hosts a centerpiece of condiments and the picture windows look out on the busiest intersection in town. Their Po-Boy oyster sandwich is a succulent delight. After a day spent rambling along Market Street, visiting shops and galleries and the nature center at the end of the road with its wonderful walk out to an observation deck over the estuary, we’re guided by local recommendations to dinner at Papa Joe’s (papajoesoysterbar.com), a down-home waterfront standard along Market Street at Sciopio Marina. Behind the bar, there are always oysters on ice. Here, I take mine fried, with a big bowl of cheese grits on the side. They’re plump and fresh as can be. Nothing frou-frou here. Back in the heart of town, we discover the Owl Café (www.owlcafeflorida.com) has deep-fried Apalachicola oysters with horseradish dip, and, of course, there’s Boss Oyster (www.apalachicolariverinn.com/boss.html), serving up the local bounty more than a dozen different ways. Over several days, I have my fill. In a way, they’re inescapable. In the window of Riverlily, a gift and clothing shop, sits a Christmas tree made of oyster shells. Shucked shells lie on the sidewalks like fallen leaves. We see them in garden beds. Each weekday, Market Street rumbles with the parade of refrigerator trucks carrying oysters to distant markets. Out in the bay, in the distance, the oystermen work their beds. It’s a way of life for this city, where the oyster is still king.

BIO: Author Sandra Friend (www.sandrafriend.com) is co-author of North Florida & The Florida Panhandle: An Explorer’s Guide. A member of the Society of American Travel Writers, she lives in Ocala, and together with her husband shares the joys of offbeat Florida travel at www.genuineflorida.com.

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