The rains threatened to make it another soggy day, but Little One wisely noted that if we brought our raincoats and rainboots with, then it wouldn’t rain, and he was delightfully right. It was cloudy for a bit, but enough sun broke out to be pleasant enough to dig in shirtsleeves without working up a sweat. Of course no raingear means mud on our clothes, but I can live with that.
I should note here that Darling Husband does not engage in the actual hunt and capture of said clams. Perhaps it’s because he’s not a great seafood lover, or perhaps he just prefers to hold down the picnic bench with conversation, but he more than earns his keep as a runner for the forgotten shovel or snack for a kidlet.
Now for my confession: I am a potluck anarchist not because of a strong conviction (though I do think overplanning can ruin perfectly good chaos), but because I am often to stretched to think days ahead in my menu planning. But since I knew I was going clamming, I was organized enough to pick up the ingredients for chowder. And then, I thought, why wait until I get home to make it?
So that’s just what we did. While Fishing Sensei threw some of his world famous BBQ ribs and corn on the grill, and his wife cleaned out a squid to do the same, I scrubbed my freshly dug clams and started steaming them. More folks arrived, with even more meat for the grill and showy prepackaged Japanese desserts, and I chopped onion and potatoes and celery and started making soup. The last folks straggled in bearing Ruffles, and I plopped the lid on the pot to let it simmer.
I brought in a string bag of potatoes, an onion, celery, butter, flour, and some milk; I hiked up the hill with two dirty (but empty) pots, a few more clams (dug with all the energy my cup of chowder gave me), and the tired happy feeling that comes from a day spent outdoors.
No comments:
Post a Comment