We hired trusty Captain Jed and his son, Ethan, yesterday to take us out on a fishing and clamming excursion. He told corny dad jokes and took us out to different spots around the island to drop our hooks in the water and hope for some bites. Since the tide was going out and the wind had picked up, we found ourselves in somewhat choppy waters, but not so bad that our faces turned green. Chris caught a couple fish, but the rest of us had no bites.
The kids were in good spirits and didn’t complain (they like to save exclusively for us), but they definitely became more animated for the clamming portion of the day. Cap’n Jed drove us over to a positively mucky flat, gave us some socks and a few pointers, and a-clammin’ we went. As we shuffled our feet in the black gooey mud, we became more adept at detecting the smooth, round shell of a clam. Within a half hour, we had a bucketful of large and medium clams. My pink toenail polish now had a black outline, but that’s a small price to pay for dining on freshly dug clams.
When we got home, we proudly presented our harvest to my sister and her family. We threw the smaller clams on the grill and steamed them until they opened, and chopped up the larger clams for a chowder. A deep satisfaction is to be won by sticking your hand into the earth and pulling out dinner.
My Corner of the Village 