Stuffed Clams a la Gaga - and my First Ever Giveaway!!!

I'm giving complete credit for this recipe to my Gaga, who cooked everything for us that was ever worth eating. She made these stuffed clams every 4th of July.

The stuffed clams, fresh out of the oven, fragrant with sage and butter and clams, each contained in it's own real clam shell, were the highlight of our annual family 4th of July at my Grandparents' house on the lake.  These clams are one of those foods of summer. The kind of food that got the kids out of the water, the Moms out of the kitchen, and the Dads away from the explosive devices. Serious 4th of July food.

Every summer, Big Daddy, MiniMe and I spend 2 weeks by the sea. Usually, we are there in June, after school lets out and before the tourists descend.  This year, end of school was delayed because the beginning of school was delayed, so we had 4th of July in the middle of our vacation.


Fourth of July 2012 was Big Daddy's and my 20th Wedding Anniversary.  Where, did the time go?  We don't look all that different from the day we pledged our troth (ok, I admit, different glasses and color from a bottle). It feels like it was just last week.... 

Because we were going to be on vacation, because it was our anniversary, and because we felt like it, we decided to have a 4th of July party. A real party. We still did the cooking and decorating and cleaning up, but we had invites printed with a "RSVP" which we sent to most of our friends, old and new.

Though I had never made Gaga's stuffed clams before, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to try them. They were a hit! I didn't have the quahog shells, like Gaga had, but I made do with some scallop shells I found on the docks where the local scallop fishermen dump them on a regular basis.

Here's the recipe. I hope you have a summer party for which you can make them, too!  Or, if you are feeling beachy this Christmas, maybe they'd make a good appetizer for your holiday feast.

Please don't ever admit that there are no fresh clams in this recipe. I never have and I never will!

Oh, and warning - this recipe's got some Paula Deen amount of butter in it so beware!

You will need:
1 15oz Can Clam Chowder not "Ready to Eat"(Gaga used Campbell's which I couldn't find. I used 1/2 can Chunky brand)

1 Can Progresso White Clam Sauce

1 16oz box Ritz Crackers

1/2 C Parsley finely chopped

1 egg

1tsp ground Sage

Pepper

Paprika

1 Stick Butter

1) Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F and place the rack just above the middle position -NOT at the broil position!

2) Remove sleeves of crackers from the box and roll and crush them to bits before opening packages and dumping into a medium bowl with the Clam Chowder. Using an electric mixer, mix cracker crumbs and chowder until they come together

3) Add the White Clam Sauce, the Pepper, the Parsley, and the Sage and mix thoroughly. The mixture will have the consistency and appearance of oatmeal. Don't hold it against me. I promise you, it will taste better than it looks at this point. PROMISE!!!

4) Spoon the mixture into individual clam shells or scallop shells, if you can find them. The amount of stuffing per shell depends on the size of the shell. I used an ice cream scoop to fill the scallop shells.  Put about 1/4 Tbsp of butter on each clam (1/2 Tbsp for scallops), then sprinkle with Paprika. Place them all on a baking sheet - it's ok if they are crowded.

5) Pop clams into the preheated oven and Bake 5-6 minutes for clam shells, I baked the scallops for 10 - 12 minutes. The tops will be nicely golden brown when ready. If you aren't sure, poke a fork into the biggest, fattest one and make sure the fork comes out hot. 


Eat 'em up with a fork and a smile!!


ENJOY!!!


Disclaimer:  I have no commercial, personal or impersonal relationship with any of the above referenced brand names. They don't know me from Adam!


I used about 10-12  large scallop shells (6 ins across) or maybe 20-24 large clam shells for the above recipe. Be prepared to replace the shells every so often. They get thrown out by mistake, taken home as a souvenir of a great day, or sometimes (ew) used as an ashtray.  The edges of the shells can be fragile, so they break easily as well.

When you get them home, scrub the shells with whatever you use to scrub a pot, then run them through the dishwasher. You can put them in the silverware basket if they won't stay in the racks.
If you get scallop shells, they should be about the size of a cocktail plate - put them in the top rack.

I know you are going to want to know - "WHERE DO I GET SHELLS????" If you aren't by the sea or near a fishing port, find a raw bar or a sea food market and ask if you can have a bunch of their cast off shells.  

Giveaway: Because my collection of shells is readily replenished, because it's Tuesday, and because I've never done it before, I will give 8 of my Scallop Shells to a randomly selected entrant.

Or, if there's only one entrant, they get it. US shipping addresses only, please!


Just leave a creative comment below by next 11:59 PM Tuesday, July 31, 2012! I will announce the winner on Wednesday, August 1st.


May the odds be forever in your favor!

My Day in "The Preppy Handbook"

(Updated 4/12/2013)

Have you ever had an experience that was sort of like an out of body experience but not really?
An experience that, at one point or another, left you thinking or saying: "Wow. This stuff really does happen!"?  Like a scene from a movie or a play, or maybe you meet someone who reminds you of a character from a book, or someone whom your grandparents knew when you were growing up.... "Whoa, that guy was Charlie Chesley reborn!".


Every once in a while, MiniMe will get a many labeled package that was sent from some far corner of the known or unknown universe.  Puppets and theaters from Czechoslovakia, dirndles and skirts from Bavaria or a "rare" Webkin from Ebay - it can be like a scene out of "Mame". Sometimes I get a little worried when I see the boxes arrive.... remember when "Auntie Mame" sent her nephew, Patrick a GIANT hindu statue at his college fraternity?

I know my sister. You'd worry, too!

MiniMe is a member of a kids' philanthropic organization. I'm so proud of her!  When asked, I took on a "Senior" roll with MiniMe's branch of the organization.  I don't get to stand in the rain at 8am on a Saturday like a Soccer Mom, but I do have to smile and look pretty for formal dances that start at 12:30AM.

This is not easy after a full day of driving to the event, several hours of business meetings and a marathon banquet, but I try to do it in style... I really do!

But I digress....

Who remembers "The Preppy Handbook" by Lisa Birnbach? 1982?

Anyone? Anyone? (and who gets THAT reference???)

As you may recall, I live in the Ground Zero, Preppicenter of the universe. Yes, Muffy, I see you over there in the corner! Where DID you get those whale pants?!

I was asked to make a presentation about MiniMe's group, in hopes of increasing membership at a newer branch of the group in a nearby community.

Today, I went to do my best at a lunch meeting that was held at a local Country Club.

Let's review the major talking points:  Preppicenter, Lunch Meeting, Country Club.

I think you are with me. Are you with me?

I sat between 2 lovely women. Bitsy and Winkie.

It IS 2012, isn't it? Because I'm telling you, I am pretty sure I stepped back into 1984.

No, I"m not kidding.

I'm not. Seriously!

Don't ever doubt me. I'm too busy to lie to you, I swear!

I wore my patch madras dress (from L.L. Bean) with a pink cashmere cardigan tied around my neck and carried my Vineyard Vines bag. I have never missed my Bermuda Bag so much! You remember those - wood handles, color/outfit coordinating changeable covers that buttoned on? Don't worry, my shoes were black and close-toed. It is before Memorial Day, after all!

The ladies could not have been nicer or more open to hearing about MiniMe's group, the activities, the opportunities available to the kids and how their children (or grandchildren) might get involved.

All in all, it was a lovely day, but as I drove away from the club house, I swear I saw a woodchuck on the golf course and heard the theme song to "Caddy Shack"!

And was that Bill Murray, watering the plants at the end of the driveway?

On this day, April 12, 2013, let it be known that the "new ish" Purveyor of Preppy Paraphinalia, "Vineyard Vines Has resurrected that Bermuda Bag!!!  Let the Preppy Sun Shine! Let the Bells Ring! Let Angels Sing!
And PLeasePLEASE let Vineyard Vines make more covers!!!

I don't understand NASCAR

So, 200,000 people sit in their cars, listening to country music, in traffic for days, to get into a parking lot, to walk a mile from their vehicle to an arena, in order to sit in something called a "grandstand", to drink beer, tolerate incredible noise, breathe car fumes, and watch cars drive around an oval for 4 hours.
Then these same, now drunk and sunburned, 200,000 people walk a mile to their vehicle, take 4 hours to exit the parking lot, and sit in traffic for days, while listening to country music, to go home.
I don't understand.

Going Home

When people ask me what living in Florida was like, I speak my true experience. It was 18 years of culture shock.  There were great things – my fabulous friends, Cuban food, Coconut Grove Art Festival, my orchids.  As a kid, I had visited Florida many times with my parents, so visiting certain tourist attractions was fun, but it was never home.

I grew up in a quintessential New England town: As a teenager, I once ran a red light down town, and by the time I got home, my parents knew about it.  The traffic light is located in front of the police station and one of the constables had been looking out the window as I ran the light. He didn’t chase me down and give me a ticket, he called my Mom. I got into so much trouble! That was home for me.

After 18 years in South Florida, and due to the effect of the economy, Big Daddy was “made redundant”.  I wasn’t all that upset when he told me the news. In fact I was horribly conflicted because all I felt was joy and relief.  We’d really missed our New England way of life and now we would likely be going Home.  The SoFlo style just isn’t us. It’s not that there isn’t a lot to like, or that I don’t miss, but it just isn’t us.  Plus, I didn’t doubt for a minute that Big Daddy was going to get a great new job.

While BD looked for a job – there were some great options as soon as word got out that he was no longer with his previous employer – we talked about where we would live.  After 18 years of culture shock I wanted to go HOME.  Very few of my SoFlo neighbors interacted in my part of the ‘hood. the neighbor's kids were pyromaniacs when they weren't trying to kill each other. I rarely saw anyone I knew on the sidewalk (though my good friend KimO still mentally waves to me as she jogs past my former home), and I never felt comfortable enough to even let MiniMe play in our yard by herself. Play dates were hard to come by because MiniMe had to go to private school and it was such a drive between our home and the homes of her friends. So she was lonely, too.

There were some job opportunities in and around The Big City. Big Daddy needs access to major airports for his job related travel, and I wanted access to museums, shopping and cultural opportunities, so we knew we didn’t want to be more than a 1 hour train ride away.

We thought about moving to the town in which I grew up. I still have family living there, the schools are blue ribbon, and there are only 3 stoplights (up one from when I was a kid). Sometimes it’s a little like that country music video –Craig Morgan, I think – where the farmer is driving his combine down the state road on the way to his next field with a pretentious, cell phone talking moron in a drop top beemer hard on his tail.(no offense to any drop top beemer drivers is meant)

I could imagine MiniMe stopping at the same Western Auto for help with a flat tire on her bike – no money in her pocket – and the owner helping her fix it then saying “just tell your Mom she can drop the money by when she gets a chance.”. That’s the kind of town I grew up in. The constable who turned me in to my parents for running that red light? His son is a constable now. Unfortunately, my Mayberry was just a little too far from the beaten path for Big Daddy who didn’t relish a 30 minute drive to the closest train station, then a 1 hour train ride to The City.

Big Daddy, on the other hand, grew up in a commuter town with a stop on the Metro North Hudson Line and, if he was going to work in The City, he wanted to be in a town with a train station.  I though I saw my New England fantasy life slipping away.

Smack between the two towns in which BD and I grew up is the quintessential Snow globe town in which my Mother in Law grew up. BD had many fond memories of the town where he had spent a lot of time with his grandparents. I fired up the laptop, entered my favorite Real Estate Search Engine (www.williamraveis.com) and entered the name of the town.  I swooned with joy at the pictures of the antique center hall colonials with their wide board floors and their 12 over 12 pane windows.

I delighted in the Chamber of Commerce pictures of down town that appeared to have plenty of parking (which it still does at 7AM, the time the photo was taken), the train station, and the recreation department’s vast menu of activities for MiniMes of every age.

I looked up the public school system and nearly cried with relief – public school would be a reality!! And there were no metal detectors at the doors of the schools! Spanish is taught as an elective – not as a first language! Be still my heart parsimonious heart.

With a little more sleuthing, it turned out that one of my childhood neighbors lived in the town, and another was a pastor at a church in the next town over.  Is there anything better than moving to a new place and having people who already like you because they liked you “back then”? Or someone whose name you can enter on the “in case of emergency please call…” line on school forms? Is there anything more lonely than an empty “in case of emergency please call…” line on a school form?

Big Daddy had a couple of job interviews lined up, and we realized that the move was going to need to be made sooner rather than later.  We made a reservation at a big, old inn and my Mom stayed with MiniMe. I made plans to look at rental homes with a real estate agent who was an associate of a friend of my hair stylist in Florida.  She’s now one of my besties.  I miss my stylist.

My Agent/ Bestie pulled a great rental out of thin air for us (or so it seemed), we plunked down a heart stopping amount of money for a deposit, and six weeks later we moved in.

Within a few days of our arrival, I was being teased by the regulars at the local coffee shop for wearing winter clothes (it was 80 the morning that MiniMe and I flew out of the Fort Lauderdale Airport and 50 when we landed that afternoon), the size of our moving truck (colossal), neighbors were stopping us on Main Street to invite us to stop by for coffee.  People knocked on our door to welcome us to town.

Remember my childhood neighbor that was living in the same town?  She arrived 10 minutes behind the moving truck with a bag of goodies that included all kinds of local information, take out menus complete with recommendations, sweets from the locally owned businesses, the phone number of her pediatrician, hugs and loads of good cheer.  

MiniMe (who, mind you, had just gone trick or treating in SoFlo and brought her 5lb load with her), got a bag of candy from a neighbor who was glad to see a kid in the community, plus a Christmas stocking loaded down with treats from our Agent/Bestie who stopped by to make sure we were settling in. I’m sure there was more, but I might have blocked it from my memory but  I filled her Christmas stocking with dental floss, toothbrushes and toothpaste.

I started referring to our address as “123 Fairy Tale Lane”.

MiniMe was kindly welcomed into the 5^th grade of her new Catholic school upon her mid year appearance.  A couple of weeks later, she was already getting invited to skating parties, birthday parties, slumber parties and after school playdates.

There was a constant bustle of friends old and new and family stopping by, saying hello, coming for dinners. Getting reacquainted. One night my daughter said to us at dinner “Mom, Dad, I want to ask you something.”… BD and I looked at each other for a clue, but neither of us had anything… “WHERE have you been hiding all of these people? WHY don’t I know them?”. I really had no answer for this. I was stumped. MiniMe went back to her plate and said, “I just want you to know that I think it’s great!”.

I needed a moment just then, and I still do just writing this. 

 Though I miss my long time SoFlo friends, I am so glad to be home.

Say Thank You to a Veteran!

As you move through your every day life, look at the hats worn by older gentlemen - and occasionally the older woman. You'll be surprised at just how many of those hats tell you that the wearer spent some time serving this country.
When you see one of those hats, thank the wearer. I'll even tell you what to say: "Thank you for serving.", "Thank you for your service", "Coffee's on me today, thanks for your service.".
It doesn't take any time, it doesn't change your politics, it doesn't cost you any money (except maybe if you choose to pick up that coffee). You don't even have to engage in any further conversation. Just say it.
It makes the day of a person who never expected to be thanked for their service, and it's the right thing to do.
I have spoken. Go forth and have a nice day. Unless you are in Australia where I belive that it is Noon tomorrow. You have a nice tomorrow.