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As American As Pecan Pie

Feb 4

Posted by val in Southern California | No Comments

Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon
Los Angeles, CA

The throwback Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in HollywoodThe throwback Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood

I admit that my first reaction upon walking up to Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood was one of confusion; to the uninitiated, the name painted on the side of the antique-looking building suggests a western bar selling antique stoves. It strikes me that restaurant and bar impresario George Abou-Daoud (The Bowery, Delancey, Mission Cantina) could have gotten by inking only the watering hole’s popular first name and saving himself a couple of double eagles but I was already intrigued passing through the gold leaf-lettered swinging glass doors, a portal to another time. Township emerged from the gutted remains of Abou-Daoud’s District in late 2010, but after its elaborate facelift the grand dame bears more resemblance to a purveyor of victuals and libations from 1910. The only feature left from the original space is the classic red tin ceiling; all the fixtures appear to be carefully chosen to make you forget what year it was when you walked in, including a room’s length mahogany bar framed by hand-painted mirrors emblazoned with phrases such as, “Continental Cuisine of the Unites States” and “Featuring Territories Old & New”.

The first page of the menu (which looks fresh off a moveable type press) is well stocked with American whiskeys (including corn and rye), as well as craft beers. After slugging back a couple of their authentic hooches below one of the hanging tin-shaded lamps may make you cast a glance over your shoulder to prepare a hasty getaway should Carrie Nation come in to bust the place up with an axe. Of course, those of us who drove up at 88 miles-per-hour in our Deloreans still have modern cocktalian fare to choose from (although you may enjoy ordering rustic-sounding beverages like “Lynchburg Lemonade”, “New York Egg Cream” or “Southern Sweet Tea”, feisty potations that will put a breeze in your bloomers).

The rustic and airy Township Kitchen Americana and SaloonThe rustic and airy Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon

The incredibly high ceiling gives the space an open look, but even with the room full conversation wasn’t drowned out by the rabble. Our group of 5 (including friends and writers Arianna Armstrong and Vivianne Lapointe) was comfortable at one of the throwback wooden benches, and although I’m not a big fan of dimly lit establishments as I prefer to clearly see what I’m about to eat, the subtle lighting lent itself well to the period decor. The piped in music nodded to alternative early on but gradually switched over to appease the drinking crowd – cabaret, Dixieland or even steampunk might have been more suitable to the theme. There’s nothing crazy on the menu, although Township does a fine job in pulling in dishes from around the country and executing them with their own flair; from Yankee port roast to lowcountry shrimp and grits, all bases are covered.

Township's take on the oyster and shrimp po' boyTownship's take on the oyster and shrimp po' boy

At Vivianne’s suggestion, I ordered the shrimp and oyster po’ boy, and while probably not what you’d expect to arrive when ordered in a Gulf Coast shack, massive chunks of cornmeal battered shellfish burst out of a sub roll in an inviting display. The sandwich was punctuated by a collusion of crisp, pickled red and green chiles and a couple of squirts of rather ominous-looking orange aioli. Oysters and shrimp in general are susceptible to over cooking and are two commonly used seafood items that can emanate that certain funk factor, but both were fresh, perfectly fried and mellowly flavorful; what caught me off guard was the capsaicin-laden accoutrements that set the back of my mouth ablaze like a Louisiana refinery fire. Despite the heat and though the sandwich may not have been authentic, it was delicious to be sure.

Pecan pie from a handed-down recipePecan pie from a handed-down recipe

I ended the meal with a cup of coffee from Abou-Daoud’s equally-rustic adjacent Mercantile wine bar and took the advice of our waiter, ordering a generous wedge of pecan pie whipped up from his mother’s recipe (developed when they lived in Texas). Sweet desserts are a turn-off to me, but the pie wasn’t the familiar sticky, viscous and sugary confection I usually encounter in even the finer pie shops; the flavor of the pecans were the star of the dish, so good that we made short work of it by attacking it with our phalanx of spoons.

The food is fresh and delicious at Township, and while there isn’t any new ground being broken in designing the menu I regard that as a plus; the atmosphere, pseudo-historic decor and roundup of regional, traditional and homespun dishes is fresh take on an old theme that gives the feel of eating and drinking in a long-established tavern, an accomplishment deserving of a tip of the hat as you head on out into the sunset.

Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon
6612 Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90028
GPS Coordinates: 34° 5’52.16″N 118°20’0.64″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s dinner at Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood, California

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When You’re Strange

Jan 18

Posted by val in Southern California | 2 Comments

Weird Food Festival XIII
Los Angeles, California

A bloody good toast, featuring goblets of bloodA bloody good toast, featuring goblets of blood

There is an old adage that one man’s meat is another man’s poison; in fact there are times when one man’s meat is the same man’s poison (in the case of fugu (blowfish), poke salad, mushrooms, etc.) Many Westerners (Americans in particular) recoil in disgust when reading about or watching the exploits of culinary adventurers who circumnavigate the globe looking for food that is wriggling, rotting or serves as an internal organ of some bizarre creature; television viewers peer through their fingers as contestants on programs like “Fear Factor” are subjected to eat animal eyes or live insects. Truth be told, as much as being a spectator to this apparent gastronomic death drive puts many of us in a heightened state of revulsion, there are places on earth where somebody is consuming these comestibles on a daily basis without a second thought.

WFF co-founder Marc Moss serves the green Jell-OWFF co-founder Marc Moss serves the green Jell-O

Some of these culinary practices were borne of survival, having to make do with whatever was available; the recent “nose-to-tail” culture adopted by modern gastropubs is a throwback to a time when a family had to make a single animal provide sustenance for long periods of time. At some point in time, some castaway on a desert island decided that eating a lobster (the aquatic cousin to a scorpion) seemed a better option than death; workers in silk factories simply ate the silkworm pupae after unraveling the silk from the cocoon in an effort to improve endurance on the job. In this age of instantaneous global communication, we are being exposed to the culinary practices of other cultures that were previously only accessible to world explorers. There is a growing movement of people who not only embrace cross-cultural dining practices, but pursue them with an unbridled passion.

Eddie Lin brought tasty fried duck tongues from Hop WooEddie Lin brought tasty fried duck tongues from Hop Woo

In 1999, Los Angeles foodophiles Marc Moss and Scott Ahlberg decided to hold an annual dinner with the intent of having the participants bring the most unusual dishes they could find or make, establishing the L.A. Weird Food Festival. More dinner party than fairground event, the Weird Food Festival challenged the group to get creative with members attempting to out-do each other with their gastronomic finds. Through author and radio/television food personality Eddie Lin, I was recently invited to join the group at their 13th annual dinner. Since this was my first year in attendance, I wanted to maximize my chances of getting a return invitation to next year’s event, and I knew that Fluffernutters and bacon-wrapped hot dogs weren’t going to cut it.

Val's llama liver with testiclesVal's llama liver with testicles

I recently obtained some llama meat from Exotic Meat Market in Perris, California and decided to utilize two of the more exotic cuts for my entry: the liver and testicles. I have never had any formal training as a chef, never worked in a restaurant’s kitchen, but I felt that with a little creativity I might just be able to put together a dish that would be unusual and flavorful at the same time. I decided to sear the liver, leaving it pink inside and use the testicle as a sauce or topping; I pan fried the chopped testicle with onion, cactus and grapes and added some Chilean wine and draped the mixture over the liver. I’m assuming this recipe hasn’t been used before since I made it up as I went, but I was hoping to create a dish that represented elements of the region where the llama calls home in South America.

WFF co-founder Levi Ahlberg asks, "Sea squirt, anyone?"WFF co-founder Scott Ahlberg asks, "Sea squirt, anyone?"

The group is relatively small, but many of the participants brought multiple items. I knew it would be a challenge to present something unique – in past years, the Weird Food Festival diners have partaken of musk ox, beaver tail and lion, and that unusual collection of flora and fauna just scratches the surface. We started out with Eddie Lin’s entry, fried duck tongues procured from the subject of many a Trippy Food article, Chinatown’s Hop Woo. Having had Hop Woo’s version of the avian mouthpieces, I knew that they would be delicate, savory morsels requiring the same kind of oral finesse as chicken wings. Eddie had cautioned me about ordering them the first time based on his past experience with substandard quality at other restaurants, but Hop Woo’s met with his approval.

Periwinkles, tasty but a lot of workPeriwinkles, tasty but a lot of work

Some of the dishes only skirted categorization as weird; a green Jell-O mold would most likely be regarded as bizarre by other cultures, but since the item was featured in Eddie Lin’s Extreme Cuisine, it was in fair play. Although common, dolmas (stuffed grape leaves) are still considered unusual to many Americans and Marc Moss ensured they would meet the standards of the Weird Food Festival by appropriating dolmas marinated in pomegranate, which gave the vegetable-stuffed dish a sweet flavor as well as a deep, dark green color. Another variation on a theme was a warming, sweet pomegranate soup; although Marc wasn’t sure what type of grain was used, I detected the faint taste of lentils (it was difficult to tell since the fragrance and taste of pomegranate permeated the bowl.

Freaky fish sausageFreaky fish sausage

We had almost overlooked a bowl of periwinkles provided by Scott Ahlberg that were already on the table; I used to see these tiny sea snails on the rocks at the beach in my childhood, but it never occurred to me to eat them. These delicate mollusks are tenderer and less oceanic tasting than their gastropodic cousins, but were likely to unseat crawfish as the seafood requiring the most amount of effort to extract meat from; once I got the hang of finding the little critter with a toothpick the pickings got better. Levi also provided the dish with highest degree of funk factor that evening – sea squirt. These animals belong to a group called Chordata and they almost defy classification; if ever there was a WTF moment in the development of aquatic life as food, the sea squirt handily wins every time. There are a variety of edible sea squirts, and unfortunately we didn’t know which bucket our snack fell into (or fell out of). The flesh is yellowish and somewhat rubbery with a taste that immediately evokes an ocean bottom-dwelling filtering animal; it has almost a caustic, chemical taste, but more curious than off-putting. Where the insidious little bastard gets you is in the aftertaste, a lingering funk that multiple swigs of North Korean soju can’t quash. Scott also attempted the British delicacy, jellied eel; unfortunately a miscalculation didn’t produced enough collagen to set the gelatin, but it didn’t have any effect on the flavor. The strangest-looking dish on a personal level was something that would probably be aesthetically pleasing to a child, a pink cigar-sized cylinder described as “fish sausage”. The aquatic tube steak had a flavor similar to gefilte fish, but I couldn’t explain the pink color; it seemed like a dish that might be manufactured and distributed en masse in the future, similar to Soylent green (I think I’ll call it Soylent pink).

A nightcap - a glass of bloodA nightcap - a glass of blood

After the funky feast, the group was told to expect a grand finale; Eddie Lin entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of what looked like sangria without fruit, but turned out to be sangre (blood). I can’t recall if the beverage was pork or beef blood, as I didn’t think to ask as my bottom jaw hit the table. A round of glass goblets were filled with the fluid, which we raised to drink a toast – it had to be the most apprehensive moment of the night, watching as the participants slowly and with great hesitation brought the cups to their lips. Take this and drink, indeed. A bowl of cooked blood resembling lumpy hot chocolate was also brought out but didn’t seem to generate any interest. While the fresh blood had a mild metallic taste, it was largely inoffensive; I expected the cooked blood to have an au jus flavor but with no fat in it there was only the taste of liquid chalk.

The Weird Food Festival was an event that I won’t soon forget and that I thoroughly enjoyed, not only for the unusual cuisine but also the spirited conversation about other cultures and their cuisine. I’m already anticipating next year’s and hoping that I receive a return invitation; the Weird Food festival is right up my alley, which gives me an idea for an entree for the next event.

Hop Woo
845 N. Broadway Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34°3’48.88″N 118°14’16.05″W

Exotic Meat Market (online)
1-877-398-0141

GALLERY: See images from Val’s’ inaugural attendance at the 13th Annual L.A. Weird Food Festival

VIDEO: Watch Val make llama liver with testicles for Weird Food Festival XIII

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Little Italy

Jan 13

Posted by val in Italy, Southern California | No Comments

Novecento Pasta & Grill
Culver City, CA

The cozy Novecento Pasta and Grill in Culver CityThe cozy Novecento Pasta and Grill in Culver City

Culver City can chew up restaurants and spit them out like a spoonful of cold Spaghetti-Os, so it takes brass coglioni to elbow your way between the big dogs and have any kind of staying power. In 1995, Angela Vianello managed to squeeze her laid-back Northern Italian bistro into a room’s width space and has managed to quietly flourish in Restaurant Row. Novecento Pasta and Grill defies categorization; the restaurant literally looks like someone put a roof over a brick-walled alley between a couple of Italian buildings. The bare, mismatched granite tabletops are furnished with paper placemats, a knife and fork to each side and a fan-shaped paper napkin at each setting. It’s an unpretentious, noisy and casual place that seems like the ideal place to kick back with friends right after work and enjoy a bite, a glass of wine and some spirited conversation.

There’s no bar; the libations aren’t stored in a climate controlled vault or on some rustic wooden rack decorated with plastic grapevines – bottles of wine are simply lined up on the counter at the end of the half-height glass walled kitchen. You won’t find mixologist Leo doing triple-gainers with flaming bottles here; in fact you couldn’t find a bartender at Novecento with a private detective. There are about eight international vintages on the wine list by the bottle or glass, with as many Italian wines available; I probably would have tried a nice Chianti but I couldn’t find liver and fava beans on the menu.

The spontaneous-looking dining roomThe spontaneous-looking dining room

Also conspicuously absent was an Executive Chef; a single very friendly cook held down the kitchen duties, and in his glass cage there was no way to get away with cutting corners or cheating with pre-prepared food. Fresh baked bread that came to the table in spongy rectangles was cut off of a massive loaf on demand and served with an herbed olive oil that looked like chimichurri; since I was gunning for a substantial pasta dish I decided to avoid the temptation of going into carbohydrate overload. The waiter was patient and fielded my questions to the best of his ability; I asked him the significance of the restaurant’s name (“900″ in Italian) and he responded that it represents the turn of the century. While this may be true, it would have been the turn of the century about a millennium ago, but I imagine millenovecentonovantacinque would have cost a fortune to the sign maker.

A green minestroneA green minestrone

I decided to start out with soup; the menu offered two options – the obligatory minestrone or the zuppa del giorno (which I jokingly hoped aloud wasn’t Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup). When the waiter informed me that the soup of the day was cream of mushroom, I asked him which he thought was better. I was relieved when he suggested the minestrone, not because I actually entertained the thought of them serving Campbell’s soup, but because I couldn’t get that stupid image out of my head. The soup comes in two sizes, and though I could have sworn I ordered the small bowl, I was delivered a rather substantial portion that made me wonder if the large size came in a child’s wading pool. The minestrone was somewhat unusual in that it had a green hue to it; it was very aromatic, with a nose of leafy vegetables, parsley and basil. Most of the ingredients were green with nearly whole leaves of spinach, long green beans (instead of the usual white beans) and big chunks of zucchini; the few slices of carrot and cubes of potato seemed a mere afterthought. Also unusual was the choice of pasta – this was the first minestrone I’d ever had that contained elbow macaroni (described as “pasta tubes” on the menu). The vegetables were fairly cooked down almost to the point of dissolving; each spoonful gave the impression of drinking a fresh, green garden in the spring.

The oddly orange ravioli della NonnaThe oddly orange ravioli della Nonna

As in Italy, I was given the option of multiple courses – I only opted for a primi as the ample portions were extremely filling. It was almost a requirement that I try Novecento’s signature dish: the ravioli della Nonna. Loosely translated to “grandma’s ravioli”, I assumed this dish to be patterned after a recipe by Vianello’s grandmother. The dish contains vodka, but its application is somewhat confusing – the menu describes the inclusion of “onions flamed in vodka”; the web site states the ravioli is “marinated with vodka sauce” and our waiter stated that they apply a light dressing of vodka to the cooked ravioli before dousing with the sauce. The dish itself is a marvelous adventure – for starters, the menu promises “marinara sauce and a touch of cream” but I think in actuality they’re going for a pink sauce. What came to the table was a sea of orangey sauce containing big chunks of spinach flotsam and jetsam (my apologies if the description sounds unappetizing – I actually found the generous gobs of spinach in the sauce delightful). At the bottom of this salmon sea was a hefty portion of Goldilocks-approved pasta (not too firm, not squishy soft). Although every written description of this dish honestly conveys the ravioli being stuffed with spinach and ricotta, I was expecting some spinach dip-like blend but instead found the now omnipresent whole leaf bundle of spinach surrounded by a conservative measure of cheese. The ravioli cut well with a fork, and the spinach accounted for not only the predominant flavor but also an audible texture that added another dimension to the dish. The presence of the vodka was subtle with all the ingredients working in concert to create a memorable pasta dish.

Although full from the sizable portions, I couldn’t help asking if they had cannoli – with no pastry chef or Italian bakery on the premises, I couldn’t fault them for the negative reply. Novecento is a no-nonsense, bare-bones bistro that I would be happy to frequent with friends for a casual meal and a glass of wine. The odd brick and stone sculpture decor on the walls with the open kitchen at the end makes the restaurant a cozy, quirky neighborhood hangout, a nice place to go and get lost for a while. If you’ll be dining in a place resembling a closed alley, at least you won’t feel like you have to keep an eye on your wallet.

Novecento Pasta & Grill
3837 Main Street
Culver City, CA 90232-2619
GPS Coordinates:  34°1’28.70″N 118°23’40.64″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s dinner at Novecento Pasta & Grill

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by the organizer of the event.

Little Italy

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Put Some Deli In Your Belly

Jan 11

Posted by val in Southern California | No Comments

Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant
Los Angeles CA

Find the bloggers in Langer's lineFind the bloggers in Langer's line

I got schooled. East Coast boy, nothing gets past me. When the general question of where to get decent pastrami in the Los Angeles area on the Save the Deli Facebook page (hosted by David Sax, author of the book by the same name), I blurted out “Pasadena” like the meshugana goyishe schmuck I am. I’ve had Lucky Boy; Tops; The Hat… not bad, nice amount of spice, good flavor, but the ball is hit and goes right through Val Buckner’s legs. “Valentino Herrera – that’s the crappy pastrami I’m talking about. Those places are awful; you’ll agree once you have a Langer”, they said, over and over again until it rose to a deafening hum like the crowd in the house that Al Langer built. I’ve been to the Stage Door, 2nd Ave., The Carnegie but this is L.A. – I want a pastrami sandwich with a dish of neon green pickles and a nice bowl of matzo ball soup, not a pastrami taco – is that too much to ask? Well, it was time to roll up my sleeves and find out what the kvetching was all about; I contacted blogger friends Valentina (Eastside Food Bites), The Minty and Arianna Armstrong (GrapeSmart, Food Truck Times) and asked them if they wanted to participate in popping my Langer’s cherry.

The formidable matzo ball soupThe formidable matzo ball soup

Langer’s is a bit of an odd duck. It sits on a corner of one of Los Angeles’ busiest intersections (as it has since 1947) with its name in big letters contrasting with the predominately Spanish-language signs that populate the block; in fact the intersection is so dominated by Langer’s that it has been officially dubbed Langer Square. I viewed the line going up the street as a good sign and met with my fellow journalists who had already jockeyed a place in line; we were seated at Table 1, which I also (initially) viewed as a good sign. The decor looks like it’s changed very little since 1947; an odd, handmade sign behind the deli read, “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year” and at the front of the deli was a small electric sign with Celtic lettering reading, “Most Popular Sandwich #19 Pastrami, Swiss, Coleslaw, Russian Dressing” (a nice gentile sandwich, to be sure). To the left where one can enjoy counter service while watching the cheerful insanity of the clean, white-shirted wait staff hustling orders was a vinyl-covered swivel stool with the name “Al Langer” emblazoned on the back; I wondered if you had to prove yourself worthy to occupy the late Mr. Langer’s throne, but no one seemed to pay any mind to the gentleman stuffing a Ruben into his gaping maw.

A customer fights the urge to sit in Al Langer's chairA customer fights the urge to sit in Al Langer's chair

We started with soup by the cup (so as not to take up valuable real estate in our stomachs). The Minty’s noodle soup seemed cooked well past al dente and there was a nice spattering of chicken fat bubbles on the surface; Valentina opted for the cabbage soup, a sturdy, tomato-based brew that was so thick it almost looked like kimchi. I felt I would be remiss to order anything but the matzo ball soup; the grain ball practically filled the entire cup – it was surrounded by a light, slightly salty chicken stock and had a texture not unlike firm tofu. I casually remarked how the obligatory bowl of dills hadn’t miraculously appeared at the table; while we ordered the sandwiches, at least three of us blurted out, “Can we please get some pickles?” I’m guessing that during these times that try men’s souls and wallets that delis are growing tired of tossing out the carefully brined cukes that remain uneaten (but probably not untouched) in the bowl.

#3 - corned beef with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut#3 - corned beef with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut

Although I found myself drawn to the come-hither of the sign with its slowly changing colored lights touting the virtues of the #19, I was thinking I wanted something a little simpler.  The sandwich order was a symphony of brined beef – Arianna made the very sensible choice of a simple pastrami sandwich, allowing the meat to speak for itself. I went slightly upscale with the #1 (seeing as how we were seated at Table 1) – pastrami, cole slaw and Russian dressing (the latter of which I requested some restraint); I’m pretty sure that renegade Minty ordered the #3 (corned beef with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut). All eyes turned to Valentina, who brazenly ordered – wait for it – the Grilled Nippy Cheese. I’ll give her credit, I’d be embarrassed just to say its name, but more power to her and her gooey, American cheese lava sandwich.

We're number 1! Pastrami with cole slaw and Russian dressingWe're number 1! Pastrami with cole slaw and Russian dressing

My sandwich arrived guarded by two dill halves on either side (apparently Langer’s eschewed the obligatory bowl completely). The sandwich was packed full of moist, steamy and fragrant pastrami, but it wasn’t as insurmountable as the human head-sized mounds of meat that completely obliterate the helpless slice of bread beneath it as served in New York delis. I brought the sandwich to my mouth, taking time to smell the spice emanating from the meat in a wafty steam and calculated the angle of approach for the first bite to include the maximum amount of meat with the minimum amount of cole slaw – shredded cabbage, your time would come my friend, but this moment was devoted to the pastrami. My mouth was filled with the most incredible flavor; I let the bite linger on my tongue, awash in saliva and ecstasy. With slight pressure (virtually no chewing required), the pastrami simply melted away as I savored each and every bite. The bread was spongy yet sturdy enough to hold the wet sandwich together; the contrast of the crusty rind and the soft innards lovingly enveloped the meat and coleslaw in a perfect storm of tastes and textures.

I should have trusted David Sax when he stated in Save the Deli, “Los Angeles has become America’s premier deli city”; if this is truly the case than Langer’s is at its epicenter. What makes savoring Langer’s pastrami an event is the care they take in turning out the best in Los Angeles while giving East Coast delis a run for their money; what made it special was sharing the experience with good friends who share the love of delicious food. I return to the Facebook page with my tail between my legs a broken man; a broken man with a Cheshire cat grin releasing a steady stream of drool.

Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant
704 South Alvarado
Los Angeles, CA 90057
GPS Coordinates:  34° 3’22.38″N 118°16’36.19″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s holiday lunch at Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant in Los Angeles CA

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We Dine Well Here In Clamalot

Jan 9

Posted by val in New England | No Comments

Clams, New England-style

The clam tanks at Quality SeafoodThe clam tanks at Quality Seafood

There are a wide variety of clams found around the globe and on dinner plates worldwide; these include razor clams, Manila clams, giant clams, the bizarre and phallic geoduck and Pismo clams to name but a few. Nowhere on this planet are clams elevated to s higher cultural status than in New England, where the soft-shelled clam (Mya arenaria) and the hard clam, or quahog (Mercenaria mercenaria) are the basis for several dishes that virtually every New Englander has tried or knows by name. Clamming or clam digging is big business along the northwestern Atlantic shores, and where clams are not hand-dug, they are cultivated for mass markets. It’s not uncommon to find beachcombers our with wooden-pegged rakes at low tide sifting through the sand and muck for these sweet bivalves.

A bunch of soft-shelled clams for steamingA bunch of soft-shelled clams for steaming

One of New England’s prized favorites is the soft-shelled clam. This is the mollusk you’ll get at your  neighborhood fish market when you ask for steamers, although it is also the clam most commonly used for fried clams. Locally the soft-shelled clam is also referred to as the piss clam because of its habit of sending up a stream of water when the sand it is buried in is stepped upon, which gives away its hiding place and puts it on the evening menu. The clam burrows backside-first (the end the “neck” doesn’t stick out of) into the sand and then extends its siphon to the water. Before preparing soft-shelled clams that have been recently extracted from their sandy homes it is best to keep them in saltwater for a few days so that they expel the sand inside them, although if you don’t have a tank with a filtration system that keeps the water moving, the clams may die, making them inedible (always discard clams that don’t react when you touch the end of the neck, a practice that works well on certain people as well). A reputable seafood market will keep them alive in tanks so that you won’t need to go through this process, and although they won’t fry them for you, some will steam them for you on the premises.

Golden nuggets of mollusk heavenGolden nuggets of mollusk heaven

Of the different preparation methods, the richest and most decadent has to be fried. At clam shacks up and down the coast, these golden morsels of sweet delight are heaped up in paper cartons, generally to be eaten outdoors while taking in the salt air (although you if you don’t care to fight of the coastal garbage men known as seagulls, you may want to find a place away from Bodega Bay where you can dine safely). Legendary purveyors of these cholesterol-laden treats include The Clam Shack in Kennebunkport, Maine;  The Clam Box at Wollaston Beach in Quincy, Massachusetts (not to be confused with Ipswich’s famous Clam Box, which is actually shaped like a carton of fried clams); and Kelly’s Roast Beef in Revere, Massachusetts (that’s right, Kelly’s Roast Beef) et al, but if you want to enjoy fried clams at the location where they were allegedly invented, a road trip to Essex, Massachusetts for a stop at Woodman’s of Essex is in order.

Watching the fried clam action at Woodman’sWatching the fried clam action at Woodman’s

The odds are pretty good that Lawrence Woodman wasn’t the first to fry up clams when he served them to Independence Day parade-goers from his stand in 1916; old menus from some Boston restaurants listed fried clams and other shellfish. What is certain is as far back as anyone can remember, Woodman’s have been the fried clams to beat, made the same way “Chubby” Woodman did almost 100 years ago and often imitated, seldom copied. Today’s Woodman’s is a big, gray wooden structure with typical nautical decor and hand-painted signs and menus. The benches and tables look as old as Chubby and there’s no table service, but keep in mind that you’re not here for the ambience – you’re here for the legendary fried clams, prepared a short walk from where Woodman dug up the clams himself. The clams are dipped, and then dragged through a flour mixture and dunked into the Frialator where they develop a slightly-crunchy crust that seals in the moisture of the clam – the counter where the clams are fried is open so that you can watch them cook while you drool all over yourself. As with any clam shack worth their salt, the whole clam is used, including the “belly” (literally, the clams guts) – as disgusting as this sounds, leaving the bellies intact adds a degree of flavor that is immeasurable – soft, squishy and slightly pasty, a veritable sea foie gras.

Steamers ready to eatSteamers ready to eat

If you don’t want the flavor masked by battering and frying, there are few dishes as raw, satisfying and slightly erotic as steamers. Steaming the soft-shelled clams is ridiculously simple, although some people make the mistake of boiling them (which continues to cook the clams while they are submerged, often resulting in a chewier mollusk). At home, a simple steaming basket that separates the clams from the water is all it takes – once the water boils, put in the clams and cover, and as soon as the shells open, they’re done. The process is the same at a clam bake (an incredible New England summer ritual that generally takes place right on the beach), except that the clams are steamed between layers of seaweed that also contains lobster and other shellfish. Once done, the meat is pulled easily from the shell; a pinch at the base of the neck frees the inedible skin covering the “neck”, which is then peeled off like a used prophylactic (how’s that for a visual?). To get any residual sand off the clams, they should be dipped in the broth created from steaming the clams for flavor, and then (if desired) dunked in melted butter. The taste is incomparable – sweet and slightly earthy, with a contrast in textures from the chewy neck and the soft belly.

The thickened clam chowder at Union Oyster House The thickened clam chowder at Union Oyster House

If clam bellies creep you out, there’s always clam strips; these are generally made from the meatier hard clam. The quahog navigates the sea floor using its large “foot”, similar to single-shelled mollusks such as snails, resulting in a more muscular animal. Clam strips are made from chopped clams, which are then magically re-formed in strips. This method was perfected by Thomas Soffron who sold them to then up-and-coming roadside chain, Howard Johnson’s who made them famous throughout America.

A cooked quahogA cooked quahog

Both or either the hard clams and/or soft-shelled clams are used for clam chowder; New England clam chowder (the familiar thick, white soup) is the most popular although there are other types including Manhattan clam chowder (with a red, tomato-based broth) and Rhode Island clam chowder, which, with its clear broth is more like a clam soup. Almost all of these contain chopped clams, potatoes and onion, and even though the New England variety is made with milk or cream, it is frequently thickened with flour or corn starch. Personally, I prefer the taste without the thickener (which adds flavor as well as viscosity), but many New Englanders see this as the standard.

The freshly stuffed clam ready to bakeThe freshly stuffed clam ready to bake

The best way to enjoy the quahog is in baked stuffed clams (which some people claim is referred to by New Englanders as “stuffies”, which although possibly true is likely used about as little as “Beantown” is for Boston). Stuffed clams are considerably more work than steamers; the nearly impenetrable shell is best opened for use in the dish by immersing the clam in boiling water until the shell opens, and then immediately removed. With the quahog, if it is open and doesn’t clam up when picked up then it’s dead and should be discarded. When the meat is extracted, the shell should be retained since the clam is going to be reintroduced to its former home prior to being baked. There are different recipes for preparing the firm, rich and substantial dish, with most including a moist mixture of chopped clam meat, breadcrumbs, butter and spices; it is very similar in preparation to making stuffed mushrooms.

Enjoying clams as New Englanders do is relatively simple, yet most restaurants around the country can’t get it right. Although it’s not done that way in the northeast, clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl as served in many San Francisco establishments is a nice way to enjoy the bread, and some of the chowders aren’t bad, but sadly a large number of restaurants substitute different types of clams or add ingredients no New Englander would introduce to these dishes. If you can’t find an authentic version in your neighborhood bistro, consider a visit to a full service seafood market (such as Quality Seafood in Redondo Beach, California) and making these Northeastern favorites at home. I guarantee that with these warm regional dishes inside you, you’ll be happy as a… lark.

Woodman’s of Essex
121 Main Street
Essex, MA 01929-1305
GPS Coordinates: 42°37’50.25″N 70°46’28.43″W

Quality Seafood
130 South International Boardwalk
Redondo Beach, CA 90277
GPS Coordinates: 33°50’26.39″N 118°23’26.57″W

GALLERY: See images of clams Val has had the pleasure to make or eat

VIDEO: Watch Val make and eat steamers

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