ITWOP has recently remarked that he has never seen me not order clams at a restaurant that was offering them on the menu. He is quite correct- with few exceptions having to do with cost or dubious nature of clams (cans usually), I will order clams, preferably steamed, preferably with drawn butter, preferably with saltines in a place that smells like low tide at the dock.
So why clams?
Well, first of all, let's get specific-the clams must be little necks. These clams have a naturally sweet flavor, which matches perfectly with slightly salty butter (unsalted, add a few clicks of salt) and Saltine crackers. Another great pairing- garlic, finely chopped Vidalia (Val-la-di-ya) onions, and bacon over pasta (but this combo rarely knocks the butter-saltine menu off). Top necks or Rhode Islands or whatever they call the bigger clams haven't got the sweetness; they also have a tendency to run a bit rubbery. Maine steamers? Ever since my dad taught me about "pissers" I haven't been able to even really give them a glance. I don't much like the raw ones either- give me oysters, hot sauce, and acidic lemon.
Other favorites? Cockles- really small, really salty/briny clams that I have had mainly in Italian cooking. Great with olive oil and garlic, but I recently had them with a light, garlickly tomato sauce that was a nice complement. Razor clams - no complaints, but no plaudits either.
So, flavor is good. But what else about this bivalve makes me keep coming back?
1. Family.
My family are clam people. It started with my grandparents in Wilkes-Barre, PA (a land locked place- I have clear memories of a panic as a child asking Auntie and Uncle Stash to take me to the ocean one day and the response that PA had no ocean)- my grandpa could knock back quite a few clams (and more than a few beers) in his day. Vickmar's, a place whose sign needs some memorializing if it still stands, was a favorite place to go on a Friday (no meat, thanks very much, in the Russian Orthodox tradition)- 25 clams for four and a quarter. You got them on an orange lunch room tray, with a small cup of butter and generic Saltines, and most of the family drank beer (pitchers with tiny glasses- a tradition in W-B, PA). I think my record was around 200 clams in a sitting. While we have moved to the less colorful and time conscious Dominic's now (only a paltry dozen for four fifty), we as a family can chow on clams. It brings back a myriad of remembrances now.
2. The smell of a dock at low tide.
I love the water- when I'm near water, I can't much complain about anything in life. We could have a digression here on the biological and anthropological need of hominids to connect with a aquatic source for its vital benefits, but it is quite simple- I love the water. I love the sea in particular. I love the word brackish more than I love the words Dardanelles and Bosporus (please look at this picture of it here), which I love without caveats.
3. They take some time to eat.
I hate to eat quickly- you would hate to have dinner with me and I hate the modern world's pace. Dining slowly (and I mean not by this that one needs to eat hoity-toity style cuisine, or even utilize the word "cuisine" in daily life) is a pleasure and clams offer this- if you have quite a few to consume, you need some time.
4. Lastly, the frivolous reason- you get to eat them with a candle.
Yes- I love the
So, if I order clams, remember- I am thinking of the people I love the most (familia mea), the smell of the end of the island in Emerald Isle, the wine-dark sea (okay- it is more grey-tan here on the East Coast, and I love the ty-d-bol blue of the Mediterranean), the pleasure of time, and the joy of a simple flame.
And the butter never hurts.
