Chomping Down

Texas Pit Oyster Bar, 3349 Western Center Blvd, Fort Worth. 817-306-0700. 11am-9pm Sun-Wed, 11am-10pm Thu-Sat.

As part of our errand-running weekend routine, my seventh-grader and I sometimes like to stop for a bite, and even though they’re out of season, technically, oysters have been eating up a huge amount of space in our brains. And I’m not sure why because every place we’ve tried not named Walloon’s has let us down with mealy, sometimes even hard, chewy oysters. Like chicken fingers. It’s no one’s fault. Times are tough all around, whatever the season.

Wheeling down Western Center Boulevard near our abode in North Fort Worth and not wanting to go into town, we felt obliged to stop at a place our family frequented often in the past but quit on after a sub-subpar meal one time. This was pre-pandemic, so it’s been a while. Working in our favor: That one sorry experience we had at Texas Pit Oyster Bar was not oyster-related. We’d ordered some fried stuff that tasted as underwhelming as it looked. On this errand-running outing, our bar was pretty low.

When my family first moved to North Fort Worth, there wasn’t much there except a 7-Eleven, the other Flips, a Domino’s, and one or two other not necessarily “restaurants” but places with comestibles. (I still dream about those 7-Eleven pizza sandwiches.) Old me would not even recognize the neighborhood now. Every corner groans with a bona fide restaurant, almost all of them chains, though I’m not going to knock them for that reason alone. My family’s had some pretty swell eats at 54th Street, Boston’s, Uncle Julio’s, and two or three other Big Restaurant assets.

Texas Pit Oyster Bar is a local chain of sorts, spun off from a barbecue joint of the same initial name in Saginaw. The oyster bar was among our neighborhood’s “new” establishments way back when, which means it opened not long after Flips, the O.G. of non-fast-food, non-chain dining in North Fort Worth. Finding fresh oysters in town was hard enough. Finding them a block from our house had to be a sign. Though my vegetarian wife can only eat the saltines and maybe a salad, and I guess suck on some ketchup, she was always up for a Pit stop and for one very good reason — to expose our child to foods other than nuggets and pizza, because we had heard horror stories of never-satisfied, whiny, picky children, we drove to Texas Pit Oyster Bar one day long ago, planted our child in a seat, and placed a cold, shiny tray of oysters in front of him. And he’s been a fan ever since.

I’m glad to report that Texas Pit blew up our dire expectations. Shame on us. This place has withstood the construction of dozens of competitors and a pandemic. We should all know a survivor when we see one. I’d venture to say Fort Worthians need to see more Texas Pit Oyster Bar, because for a lovely weekend afternoon, the effervescent, Margaritaville-esque restaurant was scandalously barren. I counted only four other diners at the time we popped in (around lunch) and eight by the time we left, including two of the original quartet. The lone wait staffer handled the small but roomy space comfortably, making me think she wasn’t new to this kind of volume.

To save you some time, I’ll just say that if you’re a fan of raw oysters, Texas Pit is worth a visit. Big, succulent, hefty, and requisitely slimy, they came on quietly but packed a brisk, salty finish. My boy does them up with just cocktail sauce, while I opt for that stuff spiked with horseradish. No crackers. Come on now.

Texas Pit’s oysters were so good, they had us thinking entrees. The fried catfish filets were lightly breaded and cooked to a mild crispiness. They had that fresh-fishy flavor and harmonized well with the zesty house-made tartar. The shrimp brochette was fun and tasty. Melted cheese covered six medium-sized skewered crustaceans wrapped with bacon and jalapeno slivers. “Skimpy,” you say? Negatory. I appreciated the delicateness, especially in a country — and, I admit, a household — with a portion-control problem.

At one point, I stole a glance at the one TV tuned to the Florida/UConn game. I’d consciously avoided it because it was close and the Gators are my bracket’s national champs, and since the world is dramatic enough, I don’t need to make it any worse by getting all caught up in frustrating, maddening, always disappointing, stupid sportsball.

Florida went to the foul line. Bro missed. The ref calmly collected the ball and bounced it back to the shooter.

“Why’s he getting a second chance?” said my football-/baseball-playing child.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” I quipped lazily because my football-/baseball-/hockey-playing self really had no earthly idea and the game was muted, but the cliché is true. Just about everything is worth another try. Friendships. Jobs. Oyster bars. I like knowing that this second chance will definitely turn into a third and probably even a thirtieth. We’ll save Walloon’s for a special occasion, like whenever I win the big Mariani Family Bracket Challenge. And it’s happening!

Texas Pit Oyster Bar
Half-dozen raw oysters $16.99
Shrimp brochette $19.99
Catfish filet $15.99