Clam Etiquette 101 or They’re funner to “catch” than clean!

July 15, 2011

We were last on Ninilchik sound

Where the Native was feeding her crowd

Her digging was furious

Her method imperious

 But I got in her space and she frowned.

Okay, I admit it…maybe I was too zealous in my admiration of her technique.  Perhaps, it’s true, I got just a little too close to the Clam Clan’s Grannie.  But the beach had filled with people seeking the pock marks on the shore.  Prime clamming space was getting limited. I, obviously, in my touristic ignorance and enthusiasm, had crossed an invisible threshold--all of the unseen creatures within a certain diameter were hers to hunt, that became apparent.  I kept looking down and working frantically even while I felt her glare.  My claim on her
clams was unwelcome.  I got my prize of shame and slouched off, humiliated.  After that, I noticed that my luck was gone.  I’d do all the necessary prep but the slim balls fellows eluded me from then on.


My hands were sore, my knees wet and cold.  I’m taking my bucket and going home.  


She must have put a real hex on me because the whole clamming procedure continued to go downhill from there as the multistage cleaning process began;  first you quickly dunk the whole thing in boiling water which opens them up; then you separate the innards from shell; next you toss the outtards and marvel at the disgusting treat. 


“Leah, can you describe how the “cleaning” is done from this point on?”  I ask.
“O,  God.  Okay, you hold it by its sucky ma-bob and you cut up the Velcro-looking part and on up through the squirty tube thing.  The squirty ma-bob actually has two tube thingy-a-ma-gigs and you have to cut both of them.  Then, with your scissors, you cut around the gut in a little triangle shape.  From the gooey gut part you take out the pooey stuff and the thing that looks like lung but you can leave the pinkish gunk if you want to.  Then you rinse the pieces off.”
“How long did it take?”
“Way more than two hours.”
“And how did they taste?”
Schrunching up her nose, she reluctantly admitted, “ I didn’t like them too much.”
Meanwhile, during the entire cleaning procedure, Shelby just kept saying from her set-apart position “Que asco! Que asco!”  (“How gross!  How gross!”)  No words could better describe…….