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The Clam Bake
Aug 26, 2009
With one last check on Hurricane Bill I headed to South Station for a bus to my first clam bake. Bill had been the talk of town for a few days with most reports being quite overblown. "It's going to hit Boston with 85 MPH winds on Sunday...it's already a category 5" I was told Thursday, though in fact it was only a cat 3 at that point.

With a brief exception the reports were wholly inaccurate. Literally the moment the bus rolled onto the Sagamore Bridge (the entrance of the cape) buckets of rain slowed our progress. It was an ominous start to my day on the cape but when I called Jen to let her know where we were she reported nary a drop of rain where she was, 13 miles a way. She picked me up under sunny skies and we ran a few errands for our contribution to the festivities before heading to her parents place. It was my chance to Meet The Parents.

I wasn't nervous but at the same time there were some nerves. I hadn't met the parents of a girl I am dating in many years. Before I had a chance to fully prepare myself we ran into her brother on the road outside. I shook his hand, handed him the coffee we had gotten him, and off he went to the beach. I met mom and dad showed minutes later...and all was well. After a bit of chatting around the table on their screened in porch Jen and I changed and headed to "Own Risk" beach, called such because there is now lifeguard on duty and you are swimming at your own risk.

We pulled her parents bicycles from the shed and headed off. I could only think of it as a scene from a romantic comedy, a young couple on circa 1980's bikes with wicker baskets rolling down a quiet street towards the beach on a sunny afternoon. It was pretty darn cool.

The waves were up at Own Risk, at least compared to normal. The beach is in Nantucket Sound and protected by the island. So Saturday's waves, while up, were not enough to knock into one with enough force to even start to knock you over. After standing/treading water with Sean for about 30 minutes he left and soon after we sat on the beach for a bit longer. Just long enough to get a bit pink on my face and shoulders.

Along the bike ride home we stopped at the house where the clam bake would occur to check out preparations. This is as good a place as any to explain the reason for the gathering. At one point there was a summer school in Osterville. After grad school Jen's dad took a job there to compliment his full-time job of teaching math at a RI college. It's been a part of his life for over 30 years. The school is now closed but a close community formed and though they have since gone their separate ways they still come together for this reunion every year at a house which was once owned by the school and has since been purchased by one of the children of a former employee.

Anyhow, we biked up the little lane to the back of the house. Ray, whom I instantly liked because of his over-sized autographed shirt from scientist-chef Alton Brown, put me to work lying the sweet corn down on the seaweed in big copper pots. We then helped wrap cheesecloth into bags containing pieces of bluefish, sweet potato, potato, kielbasa, and hot dog. These would sit on top of the corn and directly below the lobsters, which would then be covered by big bags of steamers (clams). The whole rig. It's all set up, I learned, with the items requiring the most cooking on the bottom and the least on top. It's a pretty obvious principle I hadn't ever had reason to consider. Once we were sure the matters outside were under control Jen and I went inside and greeted Richard, who was frying the bacon for clam chowder (that was only half of what was used).

We then biked back to Jen's parents place. It was my first test with the parents, 1-on-1 in the back yard as Jen showered. They both worked at colleges so it wasn't difficult to engage them in conversation. Jen and I then returned for the actual clam bake activities. The event was quite draining for me, meeting 30 or so new people and trying to keep (relatively) straight their current city, profession, family tree/connection to one in the group...oh, and minor details like names. I focused on those whose names were most familiar before the evening (Jen's family seemed like a good place to start) and otherwise just bounced here and there.

The actual food was excellent. Word quickly spread that this was my first clam bake and I seemed to have an audience, or at least a regular set of people to check in and see how I was doing. Jen's dad was particularly interested in how I enjoyed the lobster. The steamers were fine but I found it odd that you dunk them in broth first to de-grit them and then dunk them in butter to give them flavor. As Sean said, otherwise I'll be "spittin' grit" all night long. I can think of many other conduits for butter that don't require cleaning after they were cooked and immediately before they enter my mouth. I was told not to eat any clams whose shells were not open. I considered asking for clarification but because I had already eaten my bowl I decided I was best off not knowing what I may have contracted.

After the steamers I needed a break from butter so I grabbed lobster and sweet corn...umm, so much for moving away from butter-soaked foods.

Like a good Iowan I started with the sweet corn. But like a good New Englander I went for the sweet corn from the bottom of the copper pot, not the 'alternative' sweet corn which was boiled on a stove top. I guess a lot of people are turned off by the flavor of clam bake corn. Initially it sits atop a bed of seaweed but over time the seaweed ceases to hold it's shape and the juices of everything above it trickle down. By the time they pull it out the corn is pretty much submerged in seaweedy, lobstery, clammy, fishy water. It didn't sound appealing in advance and by sight it was no better. But I had to do it 'right' at least once. And when I say right I mean "This is how they did it at my first clam bake so that is what I understand to be right". I actually liked the corn. It wasn't too seafoody but there was definitely no need to for additional flavor. I cleaned off nearly every kernel, a clear sign it has been too long since I have enjoyed corn on the cob.

After the corn I went to lobster. Jen was cutely assertive from across the long picnic table in requiring...I mean offering...her insight on how to best eat a lobster. I graciously rebuffed her help. I love the opportunity to work for my food and wanted to do it my own way. So with pleasure I analyzed the best way to break apart the claws and tail while minimizing damage to the meat within as well as access to the tomalley. I even went for a few bites without the seemingly obligatory lobster.

The rest of the evening was spent chatting to random folks, playing horseshoes (another first), and on a walk down to the beach. I departed around 9:15, wiped from being "on" all night and breezed home in Jen's Prius, smiling at getting 45 miles to the gallon while fog was gently lapping at the highway. Jen reported later that I did very well by all her friends and fam (or maybe it is she that did well).