How To Cook A Clam
How To Cook a Maine Clam or Quahog -- The Maine Way
Listen here, bub. If you’re lookin' to cook up a proper Maine lobster, clam, mussel or oyster feast, you can't just slap 'em on the stove and hope for the best. You gotta treat 'em with respect, or you’ll end up with somethin' that tastes like a wet work glove. Forget that flat, borin' talk—let’s get down to brass tacks, Maine style.
The Foundation: Don't Ruin the Water
If you want a feed that’s "wicked good" and not just "ayuh, it’s edible," follow along.
Listen here, bub. If you’re plannin’ on cookin’ up some Maine clams with that alkaline tap water out in Arizona, just stop right there. That stuff is harsh enough to strip the paint off a dory, and it’ll make a world-class Maine steamer taste like a handful of wet gravel.
You can’t start with junk and expect a miracle. Arizona water—even the fancy reverse osmosis kind—is full of chemicals that don't belong anywhere near a Maine lobster or a Maine clam.
The Goods: Grab yourself some bottled spring water. It’s got the minerals that make the Maine seafood sing with that sweet taste.
The Prep: Pour about an inch into a big ol' pot. Throw in some raw sea salt. Once she’s rollin’, toss in several lemon slices, bring it back to a boil, and get ready to steam.
Cookin’ the Clams: Steamers & Quahogs
· Whether you’ve got Maine soft-shell steamers or meaty Maine quahogs, the process is the same. Grab a turkey fryer or your biggest pot and let’s get to work.
· Season the Drink: Start with an inch of water and 2-4 tablespoons of sea salt. Season it 'til it tastes like the cold Maine salty seawater.
· The Maine Infusion: Bring to a boil. Toss in your sliced lemon and—this is the secret—pour in a cold bottle of Allagash White or a Sam Adams.
· The Drop: Dump in your clams. Bring it back to a second boil.
· Clams are hardy, but don't let 'em sit around gatherin' dust. Cook 'em quick. If you’ve got too many, you can freeze the meat once they're cooked.
· The Wait: Steam 'em until the shells pop wide open like they’re sayin’ hello. Usually takes 12-18 minutes, but if you’re up in the mountains, it’ll take a bit longer. Unopened clams should be thrown aside. They may not be any good.
· The Ritual: Use that hot, briny broth (the "liquor") for dippin'. Make sure you peel that black skin off the "foot" or neck of the steamer—nobody wants to eat a clam’s boot.
· The Butter: Dunk 'em deep in melted Maine Kate’s Homemade Butter. If you can’t find Kate’s, get the heaviest cream butter you can find.
· Watch the Clock: Don't overcook 'em! You want sweet, tender clams, not rubber bands.
Leftover Gold: The Chowdah
· Found yourself with a mountain of extra clams? Don't you dare throw 'em out. That’s a "real treat" waitin' to happen. Freeze the meat, and when the cravin' hits, thaw it out and make a proper Maine Clam Chowder.
The Authentic Maine Chowder Recipe
· A real Maine chowder is thin, creamy, and briny. We don't do that thick, floury "paste" they serve in bread bowls down south.
The Inventory:
· Clams: 3-4 lbs. fresh Maine steamers or quahogs, roughly chopped.
· The Fat: 4-6 oz. diced salt pork (or thick-cut bacon if you’re feelin' fancy).
· Veg: 1 large yellow onion and 2 stalks of celery, diced small.
· Taters: 1.5 - 2 lbs. Maine potatoes (Yukon Gold works too), cubed.
· The Liquid: 4 cups of that strained clam broth you saved + 1 cup water if desired.
· Dairy: 2 cups whole milk and 1 cup heavy cream. Add a massive knob of Kate's butter.
· Seasoning: Bay leaves, fresh thyme, and a good crack of black pepper.
Instructions:
· Render the Fat: Fry that salt pork in a Dutch oven until it’s crisp and the kitchen smells like heaven.
· Sauté: Toss the onion and celery into the fat. Cook ‘em until they’re clear and soft.
· Simmer: Add the potatoes, seasonings, and broth. Cover it up and let it simmer for 15-20 minutes until the taters are fork-tender.
·
· The Rest: Stir in your chopped clams and more butter. Cook on low for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Let it sit for 30 minutes. (If you’re smart, you’ll put it in the fridge and wait until tomorrow—that’s when the flavor really gets its sea legs.)
§ Finish: Gently stir in the milk and cream. Heat it up slow—never let it boil once the dairy is in, or you’ll curdle it, and that’s a cryin’ shame.
§ Serve: Top it with a heap of black pepper and Westminster or Olde Cape Cod Oyster Crackers.
§ Now grab a spoon and get to it. Wicked good!