Clam Bake!

Terry and I had a great time out in West Wareham, MA.

Reconnecting with our Alaska trek friends Sue and Bruce and their family was really sweet. So many remembered us from last year we almost felt like part of the clan. Then there were new folks who didn't make it last time round!

We, of course, did our share of the labor involved in prepping for an affair with nearly 70 participants. Terry helped around the kitchen on Friday while Bruce took me out clamming with his sister, brother and nephew. That was a blast! We went over to Little Harbor as the tide was going out and were able to wade nearly 3/4 of a mile out to an area where few folks bother to go. I caught on pretty quickly and Bruce and I soon had a full basket of quahogs. I then started dumping my finds into the others baskets. (There were five of us and only four permits that allow residents one basket a week.) Within two hours we had our quota and had to wade the 3/4s of a mile back to the beach. Luckily, Neal, Bruce's younger brother, had brought a kayak onto which three of the baskets could be loaded and floated back. Bruce and I hefted the other on our rake handles and toted it in.

Back at the beach and loading the clams into the back of the pickup trucks, we each sampled our catch and, man!, were they sweet! Saturday, the larger quahogs would be ground up for chowder and half the smaller ones would either be eaten raw or grilled with a little EVO and white pepper and served up to those who stopped by to help set up tables and tents. (The other half would see that fate on Sunday during the clam bake when the rest of the clan would be in attendance.)

Saturday, as I said, was used to get the materials ready for the bake. Potatoes and onions were peeled, large quahogs were shucked and ground up for the chowder, tents, tables and chairs were set up.

Early Sunday Bruce went out to purchase 2 1/2 bushels of clams (Canadian, it turned out) and many pounds of fish fillets. One of his nephews, Tommy, went down to the pier to get sea water in huge amounts and then went out to get ice cubes on which everything would be placed until it was time to put it in the bake.

The Canadian clams got washed in the sea water with three changes of water to get as much grit and dirt out of them as possible. (That was my duty.) The ladies set up an assembly line for the meals. First they put a fish fillet on brown butcher's paper and placed a chunk of clam-and-cracker stuffing on top of it. They wrapped that up and put it on ice. As soon as the clams were clean, they really started to put things together. Into a mesh bag went: One of the fish packets, two paper wrapped sausages, an onion, a half a sweet potato, a white potato and a quart of clams. (That's about 18 small cherrystone clams if you're keeping track.)

Meanwhile Bruce's brother Teddy was making chowder: Four quarts chopped clams, six quarts clam juice (saved from when the clams were shucked), a gallon of whole milk, three cans of Carnation Evaporated Milk, and a pound of butter. [Terry reminded me that there was a pound of chopped salt pork rendered down with the fat saved to fry three large onions--finely chopped. The rendered salt pork and cooked onions went into the pot.] Stirred constantly, it kept Teddy quite busy--and easy to locate.

Another group sat and shucked ears of corn to go into the copper kettle.

Then the rack was set up for the bake. A heavy sheet metal construction that sits about a foot off the ground, crumbled up newspaper (none of that glossy stuff, ya heah!) was placed on the 4' x 4' square surface before two large backs of hardwood charcoal got dumped on top. Two quarts of lighter fluid sprinkled liberally over all and a quickly, carefully placed match set it all ablaze.

Over by the meal table, the plywood box was brought out. Measuring 4' x 3 1/2', with a 1/2" square hardware cloth bottom, the meals were stacked inside and a layer of plastic tarp and two layers of canvas put on top of them.

The coals having been burned down, they were raked into an even surface and a second thick sheet metal top put over them. Rock weed (Fucus) which we collected on Friday not far from where we went clamming, was spread on top of the metal sheet and the meal box hefted on 2" x 4" rails was carried over and placed on top. While that cooked, Teddy's chowder was served with some canned brown bread and oyster crackers. The corn pot was set to steam.

An hour or so after the bake was placed on the fire, steam was rising from the box and the rock weed was bubbling and hissing and it was time to haul the meal box off the fire.

The canvas was removed and everyone lined up to get their meal. One bag and one ear of corn. Linguisa and hot dogs were available for those who wanted to help themselves.

And it was good!

All the above was done with the beverage of your choosing. (And you had better well have brought your own! It was right on the invite: BYOB.)

Dinner finished, desserts came out for those who had room.

Then (most) everyone chipped in to stack the chairs and tables and strike the tents which were only to keep pine needles out of your food, anyway. There were still several hours of visiting to do and time enough for the kids to go into the swimming pool if their parents would let them.

As six o'clock rolled around folks started heading out. By seven, the only ones left were Bruce, Sue, Caroline (daughter) and her two kids, and Terry and me. We threw a couple logs on the embers from the bake fire and sat around talking for a bit before we too decided to call it a day.

Monday morning, Tommy and his girlfriend showed up around 8 AM to pick up some coolers and he helped move the rest down to the driveway. By 9 AM Terry and I bid our adieus, got a heap of garden fresh vegetables and a half dozen jars of homemade grape jelly, and hit the road to home. Some 400 mile and nearly 8 hours later we pulled into the driveway.