Gilhooley's in San Leon is a raunchy gem for foodies and locals off Galveston Bay

Gilhooley's cheap oysters and come-as-you-are atmosphere has caught the attention of Houston Chronicle, GQ and Travel Channel, and after finding myself craving bivalves in a non "R" month this summer, I decided to make the hour drive down to San Leon. 

On a hot Monday afternoon in July, my boyfriend and I stepped into Gilhooley's, and I can confidently say it is one of the weirder places I've ever been. 

Inside the walls are covered in a curious mix of old license plates, raunchy signs and a portrait of a cowboy resembling George W. Bush. Discolored TVs offer a viewing choice of the Astros game or the Astros game, and the outside bar features more license plates as well as an array of stolen bras hanging from the rafters (just ask and they'll tell you how they got there). 

Most strikingly: the place was packed with customers the staff knew by name.

Coming into Gilhooley's I had been told to expect impatient servers and bartenders. Our server was Michelle, a 23-year Gilhooley's veteran who appeared to be running the place singlehandedly. The back of her shirt read "Eat me raw or go shuck yourself" and she smiled brightly as she dropped off the giant tome that makes up the Gilhooley's food and beverage menu.

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We forgoed the "spaghetti lunch special" for the main event of raw oysters, even if it isn't an "R" month (and at $14.95 per dozen, it was too hard to pass up). 

Soon enough, a dozen enormous, well-shucked oysters appeared on a bed of ice with crackers and cocktail sauce, unaccompanied by mignonette or some rehearsed speech about where these particular mollusks were from. We followed this with a boudin link, fried gizzards with gravy, and a half-dozen Oysters Gilhooley—oysters grilled on the half shell with garlic butter and Parmesan cheese, served piping hot. 

While the food wasn't Michelin-starred, the oysters were plump and fresh. The boudin was delicious, the gizzards crispy and well seasoned, and the Oysters Gilhooley—the much-lauded namesake—were well worth it. 

As for the other Gilhooley amenities: they have bathrooms and, yes, they are functional.

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Gilhooley's is the kind of place that could draw a "y'all" out of even the most polished Texan, where the people are friendly but won't take any [redacted], either. We were there during the local lunch rush, but the bartender outside proudly told us about how people would drive from all over just to eat at Gilhooley's in San Leon—"a drinking town with a fishing problem," according to the sign out front.

In short: Gilhooley's is weird. And definitely a dive. But it's uniquely Texan in a way not many places are anymore. 

I'll be back I'm sure, perhaps during an "R" month next time. Not that it matters at Gilhooley's.