Razor Clamming

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In Those Days, my father would pick up a bucket of claims from the pier at Sheeps Head Bay, on the Right Coast. I'm sure he would have preferred the lobster and crab, but he got the clams most of the time because they were the cheapest things around then. Sometimes he would slice them open and slide the goo into his mouth because he just couldn't wait while my mother steamed them. I really never cared for them and would only venture for a bowl of chowder every now or then.

Now that I have returned to coastal living (although it's the left coast), clams are a very popular choice in the local diners. So I tried a bite of a deep fried Razor clam from the plate of Lisa G a while back, and it was very, very good. And that got my interest up.

I've seen many people digging for clams in the estuary near my house. For you landlockers, an estuary is where a fresh water river meets the ocean. Sometimes, like around here, the ocean tide actually flows 15 miles inland, and up stream. Anyway, that's where Razor clams come from, but I think they are also on the ocean's beaches away from the estuary.

So the other day, I tried it. After waiting for low tide, I climbed down the river bank, and sunk a few inches into the muck. Actually, it's the same crap that I bought a few weeks ago for topsoil, but at the garden supply, they call it loom. I realized this wasn't going to work, so I returned home and got my boots (about 12" tall) and tried it a gain. This time I wandered out about 50 feet and sunk about 8 inches. The river is about a half mile wide there and I needed to go another 200 feet to where I had saw people clamming on a previous day.

But, with each step, I sunk even further. The hardest part was to pull your foot out of the sticky yucky muck without leaving the boot behind, and before your other foot sunk even deeper. You'd think that someone would invent a snow shoe type gadget for this.

How could a clam even taste good after living in this yucky muck? And, the yucky muck stinks as well. I soon feared that the muck would devour me and my body would never be found. I tried to run back to the river bank, but after nearly falling into the yucky muck face first, I realized that wouldn't work and I'd have to take it slow, step by step. So it took me about a half hour to walk the 50 steps back to the bank. I was pooped.

I learned I'm not a crabber, and I could just buy them at the local market, without risking my life. So, I'll just do that. Might even tweek my recipe and whip up a Clam and Snow Pea Pasta.

But now, I got to check out the kayakers on the Lake with my Stargazor - Wildlife spotting telescope that my udda sista got me for Christmas. Could be just tourists or vacationers, or they could be terrorists or illegal aliens. I'll get to the bottom of it.

I'll be back with some more wisdom from the Thought Dock another time.
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