Ain't chewin' on nothin'. But them clams was delicious.
I've heard tell of clams, but never seen nor et any. They're something on the order of yams or pawpaws, I gather.
Deep-fried in a golden batter, they are without peer. From time to time, especially on a lazy weekend afternoon, I get a well nigh irresistible impulse to lunch on a fried clam plate. That's when I tool out to Wollaston Beach Boulevard in the neighboring city of Quincy and pay my respects to either Tony's or The Clam Box (or is it Shack?), two laudable establishments right on the beach, replete with sidewalk tables so that one can freeze one's privates off and be belted by great gusts of wind as one ingests these delicate commestibles. Sundays, I'll take my Sunday nespaper with me and valiantly attempt to solve the crossword puzzle before it gets ripped from my trembling hands by the fierce on-shore breezes that plague all north shore beaches. (But, in point of fact, Quincy and Wollaston Beach are on what Bostonians refer to as the South Shore.) Never put in the waters of the ocean itself, of course. It's only a year or so since the signs warning people against immersing themselves in the briny were removed. Wollaston was reputed to be the most polluted beach in the Northern hemisphere. All the offal from the maritime traffic in the Nantasket Roads gets washed ashore here. But the view of the Boston skyline is quite impressive.
That's very evocative, Andrew. Brought to mind a time I sat on a dock in Maine eating lobster fresh out the briny, cooked, of course. It was in late May or early June, and I was very pleased to have on an aran sweater, even though it was sunny and relatively calm. It was in Southwest Harbor, I think, and though I cared nowt for the crustaceous repast, the venue was magnificent. A few years later, we sat near the same spot and drained a jar or two with a couple of couples from across the pond, so, in fact, it was at Southwest Harbor. They have a Coastguard station there, or did have at the time.
Crabs . . . blue crabs . . .
Knew a Cajun who lived in North Carolina, and he would have a big crab boil party once a week in season. He had his own marmite, and would fill it with oil and water, hot hot hot Cajun sausage, whole celeries, potatoes and sweet onions, and then toss in mud bugs (crayfish) and blue crab. When he felt they were done, he'd just up-end the marmite onto a four-by-eight sheet of plywood laid over two saw horses.
He refill the marmite and restart the entire process while we fell to apickin' an' a-eatin' them crabs . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . . crabs . . .
Will trade three blind crabs for two with no teeth.
Crabs are wonderful - unless boiled alive.
We have blue swimmer crabs here - not sure if they are Set's blues - which are delicious.
I wanted to make a chili crab dish one dinner party - but would not boil nuttin' alive - went to fish shop - and there they were - dead!
How were they killed, I asked. Blank looks. They are dead, I said, how did they get that way? Palaver in the back rooms - they freeze them on the boats, was the answer. Does it hurt, I asked. More palaver. We don't think so.
Bemused glances as I take my crabs away.
I wish they gave them a wee sleeping pill, and sang them to sleep first....
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
I hope ice is nice.
Crabs, yes! I'm a nut for any kind of seafood anyway. You can keep your steaks and chops, I'll have my way with the fish and the shellfish. A word to those of you with similar tastes: if you're ever near Chesapeake Bay and get a yen for Maryland crabcakes, get out of Maryland. Get yourself over to Washington, D.C. Find a restaurant named The Front Page, just by Dupont Circle. I don't know what kind of seasonings they put in those crabcakes they serve (it's probably a state secret bein' as how Dupont Circle isn't all that far from Foggy Bottom and the State Dept. main hq), but these are crabcakes to die for. [The above commercial announcement was not paid for by the proprietors of The Front Page.]
I suspect crabs are lugubrious! And/or left-handed
Crunchy, too! I just love crabs cooked the way the Vietnamese (and some Chinese) do. All slurping and crunchy and yummy.
I went to lunch the other week with a friend at a great restaurant on North Bondi Beach, and ordered yabbies - which are short of like a small, very sweet, lobsters.
I was a-slurping and crunching away, having a great time, and looked up to see he'd pushed his plate away - far too fiddly and messy to eat, you know! With your hands! Ugh! Really!
What a waste!
Oh the lobster dies
In a boiling post
Oh pity the blue fish, too
But they're quickly gone
And they suffer not
Like the ache i bear for you
My dear Marianne . . .
Everyone knows the best fried clams are to be had on the North Shore.
Will no-one rid me of these turbulent clams?
Calm down Henry, we just be doin' a seafood dance . . .
Mmmmmmmm, clams, crabs, LAHBSTAH ! ! !
Hmmmmm - the martyred clams in the cathedral....
The Wabbit is such a crab . . .
That's 'cwab', I believe.
cowwectimundo, to be pwecise
