One of my mother’s cousins, Frank, Ed or Joe, on her mom’s side of the family, had a farm and from my childhood I do recall visits out there once in a while. Two times I remember that we joined the family for clam bakes. The food was all boiled in a large metal tub a couple of feet deep and a couple of feet long. All the food smelled like clams so my father, sister and I were not much interested. As my father was strictly a meat and potatoes man and had my mother learn from his mother what he would and would not eat and how to prepare his favorite dishes, he refused to eat anything which was a little different. Pizza never crossed his lips. We probably ate at home first, as was his habit, and were not all that hungry, you could say that my father was something of a finicky eater. Most likely we were just there as a social commitment.
I distinctly recall when I first moved away from home and began eating in restaurants, everything was different and new and I asked myself what I had been eating all my life.
The very first time I ate clams was when Ramona and I went to a restaurant and ordered the clam bake. To my amazement I really enjoyed the clams and have managed to attend one clambake almost every autumn since then.
This year I met Diane up at St. Monica’s for their clambake and it was one of the best I’ve ever enjoyed. It was catered and each item in the dinner was good quality food and prepared very well. The day was sunny and moderately warm, perfect weather, we agreed. We walked out of the dining area with contentment.