Take the lid off the Weber, throw some briquettes in the chimney starter and light them up. It’s time for a . . . clambake? Unless you happen to have a stretch of beach in your backyard, the grill is the way to go if you wish to approximate the quintessential New England tradition that North American Indians introduced to the Pilgrims.
Outside of areas where its components are indigenous, a clambake is undeniably extravagant. The ingredients are costly ($30 to $40 per person) and cannot be bought or made well ahead of time. Moreover, they require extra attention and special utensils, and are a mess to eat and an even bigger mess to clean up.
And that all adds to its appeal.
A clambake, like a crab feast, speaks of summertime, communion and familiarity. The informality of short sleeves, paper towels and eating with fingers juxtaposes harmoniously with the richness of the fare. It is a democratic event tacitly understood as a not-everyday occurrence and therefore a perfect way to entertain good friends.
A FEW good friends. A 22 1/2-inch grill nicely accommodates a dinner for four that includes lobster, clams, mussels, garlic-laced sausage (such as kielbasa, chorizo, andouille or linguica), corn on the cob, red bliss potatoes, cipollini onions and shrimp.
I can hear the New Englanders now: Shrimp, in a clambake? No way.
A clambake is a ritual, a series of actions performed just so, both in the creation of the meal and in its consumption. Participants routinely launch into diatribes about what is correct, and, as this is America, all are right.
Hence the shrimp on the menu. You do ritual your way; I’ll do it mine.
Some say the meal must begin with clam chowder and end with watermelon. Fine choices both, but I’m not convinced that such a lavish meal needs an hors d’oeuvre or an appetizer. If anything, perhaps something seasonal to start, such as toothpicks of cherry tomato and fresh mozzarella cubes dressed with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, shreds of basil and a sprinkle of fleur de sel.
No bread or other side dish need accompany a clambake; as it is, you’ll more than likely be figuring out what to turn the potatoes and onions into the next day. Coleslaw would be the only thing even remotely resembling a green vegetable that might do here, but do you really want to pick up a fork with buttery, lobster-y fingers? For dessert, how about some homemade peach ice cream with a sauce of fresh cherries and crème de cassis? Those things, unlike the rest of the meal, can be made in advance. That cuts down on prep time on the day of the event, which begins with a trip to the seafood market.
Some clambakers insist on soft-shell clams; others prefer hard-shell. Soft-shells dig deeper into the sand and so have long, chewy siphons that stick out of their shells and must be peeled off before eating. They are usually sandier than hard-shells (like littlenecks) and therefore could stand a dip in broth or water before eating.
For four people, 4 pounds of steamers or two dozen littlenecks suffice, as will 2 pounds of mussels, a pound of jumbo shrimp and four 1 1/2-pound lobsters. Ask the fishmonger for 7 or 8 pounds of seaweed. The lobsters they sell usually come packed in it; the seaweed used to be given away, but these days it can cost $3 per pound, which is patently absurd. Refrigerate everything until you’re ready to use it.
Leave the lobsters in the paper bag they probably came in. The clams and mussels should be in open bowls; put them in water 30 minutes before using so they can expel any grit.
Prepare the grill two hours before you want dinner to begin. The charcoal or briquettes will take 30 minutes to get to the ashy stage, which affords time to assemble individually portioned bundles of ingredients in beer-soaked cotton cloths. That will make it easier to remove the food from the grill.
For an actual clambake, earnest folk dig a pit in the sand, line its base with rocks and burn a fire on them for the better part of a day, until they become red-hot. The fire is then raked off and the rocks are covered with seaweed, the meal’s components, more seaweed, and a heavy, water-soaked canvas. When the seaweed comes into contact with the rocks, it emits a smoky, briny steam that imbues and cooks the food slowly.
The grill method acts on the same principle but takes only a little more than an hour. Once the coals or briquettes are ready, a thick layer of seaweed goes directly on them, then the bundles of ingredients (separated with a perforated grill grate, if you have one, to guard against scorching) and finally more seaweed and the grill’s lid, with its vents open to draw the steam through the food.
The process demands some coddling. Halfway through, it is a good idea to add more moisture, especially in the hottest part of the grill. Even after the corn and lobster are cooked, the clams and mussels may need extra time to make sure they all open (discard any that don’t). Burnt seaweed and wet coals make for a more-challenging-than-usual cleanup. Just spread a large trash bag next to the grill and scoop the grill out once it has cooled (that could be done the next day).
OK, it’s work. And it is true that you could just pile everything in a big pot, pour in some beer or wine and cook it on the stove, but the flavor would not be nearly as complex.
And uncovering a pot is just not as sexy a reveal as opening a grill with a flourish, pushing aside rockweed and unswathing troves of bounty.
A good compromise would be to do the clams and mussels on the stove and everything else in the Weber.
As it is, a clambake comes dangerously close to being a theme party, so don’t do anything regrettable when setting the table. If the word “tablescape” exists in your vocabulary, drop it.
Cover the table with a vinyl cloth, spread newspaper on top.
Offering little finger bowls after dinner (or a damp, hot towel and a lemon wedge) is a good idea; pouring sand on your table is not.
Candles or flowers, no; lots of paper towels, you bet.
The place to go a little overboard is in the cleverness of your platters and serving pieces.
Galvanized iron, enameled oval platters with handles and high sides could stand in for dinner plates; they are large enough to display the lobsters and their sidekicks to good effect.
Mini enamel casseroles in vibrant colors are useful containers for sauces and flavored drawn butters.
Provide seafood shears at the table; they make short work of claws, knuckles and tails. Remember to place empty casserole dishes or bowls in the center of the table for shells.
Speaking of leftovers, any andouille sausage, lobster and onions could be the makings of a fine gumbo; the clams, mussels, corn and potatoes have chowder written all over them.
Don’t make plans for the shrimp, however. They’ll be gone long before midnight.
Ahoy! Seafood supplies!
Call ahead to place your order with your favorite fish vendor, and make sure you order seaweed for that seaside aroma and flavor. Most area fish vendors have it on hand because fresh lobsters and other products are packed in it for shipping; it may cost you $1-$3 per pound. Check with your favorite seafood vendor, or hit one of these excellent area shops.
Seafood Landing, 3457 W. 32nd Ave., Denver, 303-571-1995
Tom’s Seafood & Specialties, 767 S. Xenon Court, Lakewood, 303-969-9334
Cherry Crest Seafood Market, 5909 S. University Blvd., Littleton, 303-798-2600
