Razor Clams

I know this blog is supposed to be about a food that brings us strong emotions due to the traditions and memories it holds but I am writing about experiences that revolve around food that are close to my heart.

One of my favorite childhood memories is clam digging. No matter if it was a morning or afternoon tide, we would load up the truck with our gear, blankets, and lots of good snacks. Then we would drive the 2 hours to the ocean. After having a snack and some play time in the sand, we would bundle up with our permits on our coats and grab our clam guns. Sometimes we would work all together and sometimes we would partner up. Every now and then, my dad and sister would take shovels and go dig in the surf while my mom and I stuck to the beach.

Sometimes family or friends would come with us but usually it was just the four of us. I remember there would be times we were digging during storms. The weather would be freezing and sharp rain would pelt your face while the fierce wind almost knocked you over. It didn’t matter to us. We would go out digging regardless of any weather conditions because we knew as soon as we all reached our limits, we would go back to the truck and have cookies and hot chocolate while wrapped in blankets. Then my sister and I would sleep the whole ride back home. Once we got back home, the four of us would crowd around the wash basin and clean the clams. I’d like to say that my sister and I actually contributed to the cleaning process but I highly doubt we were actually all that helpful. Mostly because I usually stood there trying to name all sixty clams!

The only thing is I hate seafood! I refuse to eat it. Yet the next night we would always make clam chowder. I loved the smell of it! The smell would flow through the whole house! It never smelt fishy, just warm and seasoned. Then we would all sit down at the table and enjoy the “fruits of our labor”. And, as always by request, I would be having spinach raviolis for dinner instead!

I think back to the memories of clam digging. Everything was simple. It was just a fun outing for my family. Now my parents are divorced and my mom, sister, and I haven’t gone clam digging all year. My dad tells me on the phone about his new trips clam digging with his girlfriend and I think back to the fun we used to have not only digging the clams but eating them too.