We took some friends clamming. I will call said family, the Starts. The Woody's and Start's went clamming. And we learned a thing or two. Or Five.
#1: If you don't catch your limit, which is 15 clams per person, and you end up with 6 combined, dinner together is simply implied.
#2: There's more to clamming than meets the eye. And explaining how to watch subtle sand movement as a wave comes in, is slow work for a girl in a Snake River Football hoodie. (Allie is proudly holding a rock...)
#3: There are some real clammers out there. Like they are catching pythons in a deep den hole. I want to be like them someday.
#4: It goes like this: with a clam "gun" or blunt shovel, you tap around on the sand looking for movement -or- the pressure caused by stepping enlarges the little hole the clams are using to breathe. Then, as FAST as you can, DIG!! The clams use their "necks," which happens to look like everything else clammy, to bore down to a depth that cannot be found. Pull up on the gun and knock the sand out, kicking it wildly to find a clam before it gets away. Take pictures and toss it in your trophy bag. I suppose it is like calf roping, for some of you out there.(Below: Girlfriend and her first clam, waving proudly like a banner to the big blue. And to everyone, both young and old on the beach. I reacted the same way...!)
#5: We will be back. You clams don't have a chance; I like chowder and fritters. I will not apologize.
If you want to come, give me a holla. We'll play in the sand.
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UPDATE: We will have a "sans shellfish" menu for those who are apparently allergic! Good Grief- So Sorry!
