So our resident chefs had some major cooking to do. Grilled, raw, breaded and fried, mixed in with pasta, we even had enough of these tasty quahogs to play a few games of clam jenga.
It wasn’t Montauk, but it’s nice to test different waters every year to satisfy our annual cholesterol binge. It took a little exploring, but our troops eventually hit a jackpot in the mud bank across the bay.
Some of us then took a ride east to Narragansett, Rhode Island, where we came across the real deal when it comes to mud banks. From a distance, folks with rakes seemed to be walking on water, watching astutely for air bubbles reaching the surface from their deep burrows in the dense, vacuum-like mud.
We didn’t have the right tools, so luckily we ate beforehand at a marine town nearby, where whitewashed shops and restaurants lined a bay filled with small boats.
Champlin’s seemed like the ideal one-stop-shop, a menu dedicated to their local hauls with shellfish cooked all ways. But it wasn’t right getting clams when we had a stockpile at home, so I opted for the lobster roll. There was a refreshing void of that nauseating over-buttered roll, unlike the ones you tend to find in New York City. It lets the chunks of lobster do the talking.
In general, the Quonochontang bay where we stayed was a bit isolated, as I guess is the feel for any group of New Yorkers. The quiet home on the secluded street is ideal for anyone dedicated to spending a weekend clamming away. But for those looking to soak in a real seaside vibe, we’d recommend trekking further east