OF CLAMBAKES…!
Shortly after the earth surface cooled,
When I was a boy…
Every summer it seemed in August
A clambake the fam’ly enjoyed.
–
It would be in Ida and Andy’s yard,
A South Street, Douglas, locale…
The clams would soak in a corn meal bath
Overnight til the grit expelled.
–
The cousins would dig a pit,
Light a bonfire filled with rocks….
When the rocks were good and hot
They’d put in the clam pots.
–
Covered over with seaweed
The steam lusciously smelled…
Some of the clams were set aside
To be breaded and fried to taste well.
–
Along with clams, they steamed up corn
On the cob that tasted so sweet…
With beer on tap and soda for
The kids, and coffee for later before sleep.
–
We all brought something to pass,
A dish of salad or beans…
Sometimes ham or turkey would arrive
Depending on a person’s means.
–
Uncle Andy (now gone and missed)
Might fall asleep at the ballgame…
We kids once named him the umpire,
But he worked hard, so could (him) blame?
–
I don’t know why I didn’t like steamed,
I missed out on the best food of all…
Tasted them since then and they were great—
Just thinking of what I missed, that’s all.
–Jonathan Caswell
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