Culinary Geography

     Yesterday's mention of lobster rolls evokes the image of a seaside clam shack or chowder house along the rock bound New England coast.  There are numerous foods that are inextricably linked to certain geographic locations.  Take for example poutine, standard fare in Quebec, or key lime pie in southern Florida, or the beignet in New Orleans.  And of course I would be remiss if I didn't mention the iconic cheese steak and hoagie in the City of Brotherly Love.

     So you might imagine my confusion when staying in Newport, Rhode Island and having gravy and biscuits at the self serve cafeteria line for breakfast each morning at the Holiday Inn Express.  Isn't that a classic "low country" southern meal?  I'm not sure what I expected in New England, maybe porridge or something slathered with real Vermont maple syrup would have been more appropriate.  Maybe something like apples and cheese, both locally sourced.  Certainly not the white meat speckled peppered gravy poured over a split biscuit.  Kudos to HIE for their hospitality, cleanliness and overall helpfulness.  But they really missed the boat on breakfast!



The Big Chill

     Lobster rolls are practically synonymous with New England.  They symbolize the culinary essence of the region.  On my recent journey to Rhode Island I had two of them and savored each and every bite.  But what goes into the perfect lobster roll?  That is subject to much debate among locals and visitors alike.  A lobster roll is a lot like ordering a new car: there are plenty of options.

     Purists would decry the addition of anything in the roll, which must be a top split hot dog roll buttered and lightly toasted on the outside, other than just the meat of a freshly cooked lobster.  However, depending on the restaurant (or roadside seafood stand), other ingredients can be included.  Perhaps the most common addition is mayonnaise very lightly blended into the chopped meat.  For added crunch some add finely diced celery and perhaps some sliced scallions.   Onions and their milder relative, shallots, are seldom used for fear they would overwhelm the delicate flavor of the crustacean's meat.  Other additions found in the seaside summer delight are lettuce, herbs, and a spritz of lemon juice.  And a unique twist to the lobster roll is found in Connecticut where vendors sell it warmed in the roll.

     Perry's in Milford, CT is credited with first serving up the lobster roll at their restaurant in 1929 and for several years it was a menu item to a limited number of people along the coastline of that state.  Eventually the popularity grew to where the lobster roll is now routinely served to eager patrons from Long Island to coastal Canada.

 

     But one nagging question remains.  Since it is best to cook the lobster alive to avoid the  possibility of food poisoning that can occur from the bacterial contamination in deceased shellfish, what is the best and most humane way to cook a lobster?  Many theories abound.  Some recommend a cold saltwater bath scented in clove oil (really?), or thrusting a knife through the head.  But unfortunately the lobster's nervous system is not like ours and is distributed throughout the body, so such a method is not instantaneous as we might imagine.  The simplest method seems to work the best.  I call it the "Big Chill."  Place the lobster(s) in the freezer for about 30 minutes.  This renders the lobster motionless and makes the trip into the pot of boiling water a mundane task, devoid of any trauma for the lobster or the cook.



    

    

A Fortuitous Happenstance

     There is a small agency in Newport, RI that offers a walking culinary tour of the town only on Fridays.  Eager to be a part of the chef led tour I quickly signed up, only to find that the 1 pm event had been canceled due to a family emergency.  Naturally disappointed I had to quickly make alternative plans for my limited time along the Narragansett Bay.  Somewhat disgusted at the abrupt change in my schedule I got in my car and headed for Point Judith along the coast where nearly a half century ago I had for the first time dug for quahogs along the beach using a somewhat pre-historic looking clam rake at low tide.

     As luck would have it that also happens to be the location of the ferry to Block Island that transports people and supplies to the small resort community there.  And again a stroke of good fortune came my way when I discovered that the morning ferry was still in dock and about to leave in half an hour.  I quickly booked passage for the 45 minute, 12 mile ride and set off to discover new sights, and as it turned out, tastes of Rhode Island.

 



     It was almost noon when we landed in Old Harbor, a small Victorian looking village.  I rented a car for the afternoon with the intent of visiting the two lighthouses located on each end of the island.  From north to south it is a short half hour scenic drive past million dollar summer homes and I happily took in the ambiance of the locale, feeling very serene and relaxed.  But after visiting both lighthouses I still had some time left before returning my PT Cruiser convertible and catching the afternoon ferry back to the mainland.  So I took off to find some of the off the beaten track places that are hangouts for the locals and not the tourists.


     And that's when it happened.  I had finally done something that had taken me over 6 decades to accomplish.  They say you always remember your first, and I certainly did.  It was the first time in my life that I ate a stuffie!  I came upon a small backwater (no pun intended) little bar/restaurant on a side street outside Old Harbor.  It was frequented by a couple fishermen and an old retired guy (like myself).  And there I had the Rhode Island classic.

     A good stuffie is a labor intensive culinary work of art.  Using the shell of the quahog the clam meat is chopped and mixed with some breadcrumbs and a secret blend of spices and then baked in the shell, then served with hot sauce and a lemon wedge.  It was a perfect combination of salt, heat and sweetness that danced around in my mouth, tantalizing my tastebuds.  It made my day, as Dirty Harry would say.

 

     I wasn't disappointed!  That stuffie became the measurement by which all future stuffies will be regarded in my mind.

Creating a legend

     According to legend, it was a hot July day in Essex, Massachusetts in 1916 when Lawrence "Chubby" Woodman invented the first fried clam by rolling a shucked whole-belly soft-shell clam in some crumbs and immersing it in the cauldron of hot oil he used for frying his potato chips.  Not only was this a stroke of culinary genius, but Chubby's timing was also impeccable.  Following the First World War America was on the move and wanted something good to eat: something that was fast, convenient and inexpensive.  And thus the clam shack had it's humble beginning.

 

     During my stay in the Newport area I came across an iconic clam shack, Flo's.  Located on Wave Avenue, it's been an institution by the bay since 1936.  A classic "in the rough" eating establishment it's a combination of hangout, restaurant and meeting place for locals who want good food at a decent price.  In fact, on Friday night when I visited they were offering their end of the week special, a full prime rib dinner for $9.95.  It was indeed an amazing meal with a slab of meat so big it was literally falling off the plates of the two women at the table next to me.  The beef was accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and a huge salad.  Commending them for their effort they confided to me that they will take home what they could not finish and have at least two more meals at home!

     As good as that prime rib meal looked, I could not bring myself to have beef at a clam shack.  So I ordered up another cup of Rhode Island clam chowder (I can't seem to get enough of it!), a stuffie, and a classic top split lobster roll brimming with succulent claw meat.

     Following the instructions, I placed my order by the outside window and found my way upstairs to the balcony that overlooked the beach and waited for my electronic lobster to light up informing me that my meal was ready for pick up.  In a few minutes I was summoned and picked up a tray full of oceanic delights.  As the sun was going down I exulted in the soft breeze coming in through the open roof and savored a memorable meal.  Life doesn't get much better than that!



The Real Deal

     I mentioned commencing my meal at Anthony's with some Rhode Island Clam Chowder.  That is without a doubt the least well known of the 3 signature chowders that designate a geographic area.  Most people are aware of the creamy New England variety and the tomato based Manhattan version.  But the Rhode Island style chowder relies on the basic flavor of the clams without any other ingredient playing a supporting role.  It is my favorite and the one I will always order if given the opportunity.  A clear briny broth cradles the goodness of sweet clams and hearty cubed potatoes without the cloying potential of the thick milky New England style, or the acidic tomatoes that can overpower the taste of the sea in the New York rendition.

     It was on tax day (April 15th) that I gave an initial review of the three chowders after creating my own Rhode Island version for the first time.  And that was when I became a true believer.  Here is the recipe for you to try:

Rhode Island Clam Chowder

2 oz. thin-sliced bacon (2 to 3 slices), cut crosswise into 1/4-inch strips

1-1/2 oz. unsalted butter (3 Tbs.)

1 large yellow onion, cut into small dice (about 2 cups)

4 tender inner celery stalks, sliced crosswise 1/8 inch thick (about 1 cup)

1 Tbs. finely chopped garlic (2 large cloves)

6 cups diluted clam broth, plus the reserved clam meat (1-1/2 to 2 cups), finely chopped

1-1/2 lb. large Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/3-inch dice (about 3-1/2 cups)

2-1/2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme

2 bay leaves

Freshly ground black pepper

2 Tbs. chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 

Put the bacon in a wide heavy-duty 4- to 5-quart pot or Dutch oven and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until just beginning to turn crisp and golden, about 4 minutes. Remove from the heat. Pour off and discard the bacon fat, leaving the bacon in the pot. Add the butter and onion and cook over low heat, covered, stirring occasionally, until the onion is sweet and tender, about 10 minutes. The onion shouldn’t color. Add the celery and garlic and cook, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until all the vegetables are tender, 5 to 7 minutes more. Add the clam broth, potatoes, thyme, bay leaves, and 1/4 tsp. pepper. Bring to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat to maintain a simmer and cook until the potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes.
Remove the soup from the heat, wait until it stops simmering (this may take a minute if you’re using a Dutch oven), and stir in the clams and chopped parsley. Season to taste with black pepper, if desired.
                   

Ask a local

     I've discovered in my travels that those slick booklets in the hotel rooms advertising area eateries aren't always the best way to find a good place to eat.  More often than not the places listed are only there because they have paid for the advertising space and their inclusion on the page has little to do with the quality of their food.  What I have learned to do is to ask a local about a good place to eat.  Word of mouth is always the best indicator.  And a full parking lot verifies their wisdom.

     So with that in mind I asked the person behind the counter at my lodging where I could find an authentic Yankee meal.  She promptly pulled out a map of the area and drew me a direct route to Anthony's.  I later discovered that apparently so many people ask that they had printed the directions on a pink sheet of paper that was on the desk of every room.

 

     Anthony's began in 1956 as a fish market.  Then somewhere down the line the management decided to cook some of the seafood they sold and added a small dining area to their original store.  It is a typical understated New England establishment as the photograph below indicates.  But the food is anything but understated.

 

     So for my first night in The Ocean State I went all out and began with a cup of the clear, briny Rhode Island Clam Chowder and then made my way through the massive Mega Shore Dinner.  That included the long neck steamers, mussels, chourico, corn on the cob, boiled potatoes, onions and a whole steamed lobster, along with clam broth and melted butter on the side. 

 

     It was a daunting task, but I managed to down every last delicious morsel and was barely able to waddle out of the place to my waiting vehicle.

The Ocean State

     Rhode Island, as we all know, is the smallest of our fifty states.  Little Rhody is only 48 miles from north to south and a mere 37 miles east to west.  The population is just over a million inhabitants, less than Philadelphia and the entire state shares the same phone area code: 401.  But the state has over 400 miles of coastline.  So as you might expect, fishing is a major industry.  Clams, scallops, oysters, codfish, flounder, sole and certainly lobsters proliferate the menus of the restaurants and clam shacks not only in Rhode Island, but the entire New England area.

     And many of the local eateries operate on a system generally referred to as "eating in the rough."  It isn't fine dining by a long shot, but it is good.  The eat-in-the-rough protocol is as follows:  You stand at a counter or window and place your order first, even before sitting down.  That might require shouting your order in to the kitchen.  Then you take a number and find a seat.  The kitchen then goes to work and your meal is prepared right then and there and brought to your table on a tray, served on paper plates with plastic utensils.  Another variant can be employed and you are summoned back to the counter to retrieve your own meal when you respond to your number being shouted out.  For those unfamiliar with the method for retrieving the succulent lobster meat from the shell there is usually a detailed set of instructions on the place mat.  And after you have finished your meal you are also expected to clear your own table.  One final note:  payment is almost always cash only.



     Although my stay in Rhode Island was limited I was able to feast on the ocean's bounty for the 4 days I was there.  More on my experience tomorrow.