A big steaming hot bowl of

Clam chowder sits on the table

In front of me.

As I wait for it to cool, my mind travels

Back to being a kid again.

Our parents used to load us all

Into the car and head off

To the clam flats so that Dad

Could dig clams.

Mom usually sat in the car and us kids

Took off onto the rocky beach

At Adams Point. 

There wasn’t much sand

There but we could turn over

Rocks and play with snails.

We were pretty free to do

What we would as long

As we didn’t get close

To the water, and stayed

In sight of the car. 

Oh, and we couldn’t play

In the bushes because we

Brought Mom a balloon we

Found hanging on a branch

And wanted to know why

It said For Prevention

Of Disease….

When Dad was done digging

We would climb back into the

Car and head for home. 

Dad would usually

Start shucking the clams

And mom would

Start chopping onions

And peeling and cubing

Potatoes.

When Dad was done

He would bring in the

Bowl of clams.

Mom would run them

Through her fingers

At the sink to take out

Any shell bits and

Strain the juices to get rid of any sand

And Shell bits.

She would start to sweat the onions

In some butter and add some of the

Clam juices and the potatoes. 

Next was the clams…she picked out the

Smallest and most tender and added

Them whole…none of this chopped

Clam stuff in her chowder…. Last was

The milk just brought to a simmer.

We would then gather around

The table for a big

Steaming hot bowl

Of clam chowder.

Susan Bergeron

September 21, 2011