MICHELLE MULLEN

An Beal Bocht Café’s 13th Annual Oysterfest served up a shell of a good time on Oct. 11, joining forces for the first time with a local advocate working to restore oyster populations in New York City waters.

This year, the Irish eatery redirected hundreds of shells typically trashed to City Island Oyster Reef, or CIOR, a nonprofit reviving a once-thriving ecosystem in the Long Island Sound. Each shell will help form new reefs, encouraging oyster growth that filters waterways and protects against shoreline erosion. Among the many volunteers with CIOR is Kevin Horbatiuk, a longtime regular at An Beal Bocht, who led the collaboration.

“I do a lot of public outreach, so this was the easiest sale I’ve ever had to make,” the attorney told The Press with a chuckle. “It takes the messy aspect of this event off [An Beal Bocht’s] hands because they don’t have to deal with the oyster shells.”

The idea came to Horbatiuk over a recent Sunday pub chat with bartender Cassandra Sawyer, where the two delved into New York’s storied maritime past. Along what is now Spuyten Duyvil Creek, oyster houses and shacks once served fresh catches, pulled straight from the water.

“Journals from the time talk about people who went there — the oysters were so large and so delicious,” Horbatiuk said. “The owner would just go outside, pick them up out of the creek, and harvest them.”

Near what is now the corner of Broadway and West 230th Street, a busy inn serving oysters drew travelers along the trade routes that connected the Bronx to Manhattan. The spot became so well known that its reputation was noted in 19th-century magazines like Harper’s Weekly. 

Oysters once defined the city’s identity, dating back hundreds of years before colonization. The Indigenous Lenape people harvested them along the Hudson and Long Island Sound, piling discarded shells into mounds called middens that archaeologists still uncover today.

By the 1800s, oysters had become a cornerstone of New York life. European colonists were not only feasting on the mollusks but also grinding shells into a lime-based mixture known as “oyster mortar” to build early homes and churches. 

But that golden age was short lived. By the late 19th century, overharvesting and unchecked industrial growth began to deplete local oyster populations. 

“The Indigenous peoples who lived here viewed the river as a life source,” Horbatiuk said. “They fed off of that. And then as the city grew, it became a means of transportation.”

The construction of the railroad along the Hudson’s edge severed tidal wetlands and salt marshes, while combined sewer systems sent untreated wastewater directly into the river. Pollution from factories and shipyards poisoned the water, killing off entire reefs that had filtered and sustained it for centuries.

In the 1890s, Spuyten Duyvil Creek was dredged and reshaped to allow ships to pass through, pushing the shoreline nearly a mile inland and erasing much of the natural estuary. What had once been a thriving, self-sustaining ecosystem became a dumping ground. The city’s oysters — once its pride — were nearly gone by the turn of the century.

Their loss rippled far beyond the shellfish themselves. Oysters are natural purifiers, capable of filtering up to 50 gallons of water a day. They pull in plankton and organic particles, retaining what they need and releasing the rest as nutrients that support other species.

“Ultimately, it keeps growing to the point where you’re getting the dolphins, the seals and the whales coming here,” Horbatiuk said, “because they can feed off the larger fish,that feed off the smaller fish, that feed off the other stuff, that feed off the oyster secretion.”

The reefs also serve as natural barriers, softening waves and protecting coastlines from erosion and storm surges. Unlike concrete barriers, oyster reefs grow and adapt over time, providing a living defense against rising seas.

 “A lot of areas that were very vulnerable during Hurricane Sandy,” Horbatiuk said. “The thinking at the time was putting up concrete dividers. But now, organizations are rebuilding oyster reefs instead. They naturally break up wave strength and bring life back to the water.”

That work is happening across New York through widespread projects like the Billion Oyster Project at New York Harbor, which CIOR models itself after on a smaller scale. The City Island group focuses on restoring the Bronx’s own shoreline — a place with a deep nautical past. 

Once known for oystering, shipbuilding and sailmaking, City Island’s prosperity relied on its waters. When industrial runoff and sewage outflows turned the Sound toxic, both the oysters and much of the local trade vanished.

“[CIOR] is dumping major amounts of shells so the oysters will populate on them and naturally break up wave strength,” Horbatiuk said. 

Founded in 2019 by longtime City Island residents, some from families who have lived there for generations, CIOR is dedicated to rebuilding what was lost. Since then, the group has placed more than 47,000 oysters into Long Island Sound, partnering with schools and community groups to monitor the reefs’ growth and health.

Once oysters pass through their larval stage, they attach to hard surfaces rich in calcium carbonate, like other oyster shells. 

“Because of dredging and overharvesting, there’s no longer structure for them to attach to,” Horbatiuk explained. “So step one is rebuilding that foundation.”

At this year’s Oysterfest, Horbatiuk was joined by fellow volunteer Lauri Tomeo, who served as an ambassador for the Billion Oyster Project, helping to raise awareness for the group’s work. 

“It’s about engaging with people who wouldn’t necessarily see this on any given Saturday or Sunday,” Tomeo said. “People are very appreciative. It gives them perspective.”

Throughout the afternoon, Horbatiuk and Tomeo made quiet rounds around the bar, collecting shells as patrons slurped oysters and clams. By day’s end, they’d gathered roughly 450 oysters and 150 clams, piling them into white bins for CIOR’s truck to collect. 

“We wound up filling a 32-gallon bucket nearly to the top,” Horbatiuk said.

From there, the shells begin a yearlong transformation. They’re first taken to a curing site in Pelham, where they sit outdoors for nine months to a year — a process required by the state Department of Environmental Conservation to ensure any microbes or non-native organisms are eliminated. 

“When you shuck an oyster or clam, there’s liquid inside of it,” Horbatiuk said. “That’s the water in which it grew and none of it is native or natural to this part of New York.”

Once deemed safe, the shells are sent to the Cornell Cooperative Extension on Long Island, where scientists spray them with oyster larvae. After the larvae attach, the shells — now seeded with baby oysters — are returned to City Island and placed underwater in metal cages. Volunteers later pull up the cages to measure growth, document biodiversity and submit data to maintain city permits.

Each reef becomes its own small habitat, attracting fish, crabs and other marine life. Over time, the process helps rebuild an entire ecosystem — one that supports more than a hundred species in the Long Island Sound.

Back at An Beal Bocht, the partnership drew warm reactions from both staff and patrons. 

“A lot of people were really excited about the fact that we could recycle them,” Sawyer said. “They were really looking forward to making this a new tradition.”

For Horbatiuk, the night was a reminder that even small acts — a pub chat, a handful of shells — can help restore what was once lost. 

“It’s amazing to think, that just by collecting shells, you can bring back something that’s been part of New York for hundreds of years,” he said.

Keywords

An Beal Bocht Oysterfest,

Bronx oyster reef restoration,

City Island Oyster Reef,

NYC oyster recycling,

Kevin Horbatiuk oysters,

Long Island Sound ecosystem,

Billion Oyster Project Bronx