In Eastern New England, i.e., Rhode Island, Massachusetts and Maine, the clam bake is a summer staple. Clams, mussels, crabs and, of course, lobsters, more properly pronounced "Lawbstah," is a great and ancient tradition dating back to Massasoit and his merry band of Wampanoag Indians. In fact, I'm pretty sure Massasoit’s exact words to Myles Standish were, "Beware of the Master Claw; it'll take your fingers off".
Being a loyal native son of Massachusetts, I have always loved these steamed shelled sea creatures and never failed to gobble them up when I had the opportunity. Trained from the cradle, we know how to crack the shells to find the succulent morsels hidden in the tail (not the big muscle behind the body that propels the lobster in the ocean, but the delicate little fan at the very end of the tail) and suck out all the delicious goodness in each of the tiny little legs. Dipped in drawn butter, what could be better? Maybe an ear or two of fresh picked corn to go with. Mmmmm.
But, I digress. Some years ago we acquired a 12 quart pot, the better to steam these suckers and enjoy them in the privacy of our home. They come with the claws all trussed up to preclude the untimely loss of a finger or two, but otherwise, they can be quite active. Clams and mussels don't do much. They just sit there and let you pop 'em into the pot. It's almost as if they don't mind offering themselves up to sustain us higher forms of life. You'd think that their greenish, clawed cousins would feel the same way.
But, noooooooo! They don't like going into the pot and fight like hell to stay out. They spread their claws as wide as they can so you can't fit them into the post and sometimes flap their tails. They have, on occasion, even tried to climb out of the pot. Which has led me to the conclusion that crustaceans are much smarter than mollusks.
It is very disconcerting.
Most of the food we eat today comes ready to eat, or, at the least, ready to cook. We don't have to hunt and kill our meat anymore, or, for that matter, our fish or fowl either. And unless you live on a farm, our food comes all chopped up and oven-ready.
So, watching my dinner fighting to stay out of the pot has positively put me off my feed. I'll cook and eat almost anything that's already been slaughtered and chopped up for me. I'll even eat Lawbstah that's already red the first time I lay eyes on it, but if I have to kill the damn things first, I'll stick to veggies and tofu, thank you very much.
The Clam Bake
(or Why I don't cook lobster any more)
by Dave Bresler