I picked up my 2012 clamming permit from the Harbormaster this morning for $30. This means of course that the boat needs its bottom painted, battery charged, fuel filter changed, trailer tire reinflated …. and by the time I actually launch and get across the harbor to my favorite early season clam spot, I’ll be out at least $100 for a bucket of quahogs.
I jest. I don’t clam for the economics, it’s just a pastime that gives me an excuse to get on the water when there are no fish to catch or clement breezes to sail. Along with planting the spring peas on St. Pat’s, late winter-clamming is one of those rituals that must be honored — my personal version of Ash Wednesday or Cheese Sunday.
As I waited for the lady at the department of natural resources to finish laminating my card a flyer advertising a “learn to razor clam” seminar (March 11) for kids caught my eye. That is as good an excuse as any to clam blog about a species that is gaining some traction thanks to a combination of Asian and Italian cuisine induced demand, and a fairly fun but weird way of stalking and capturing the things.
Razor clams were never eaten when I was a kid. Steamers, quahogs and oysters always made their way into the basket and eventually the table and our mouths, but the long brown razor clams were left in the mud. The main reason I never ate one was probably because they are nigh impossible to catch with one’s bare hands because they can actually flee at a rate faster than a clammer can dig due to their streamlined shape. Named because they resemble antique straight razors, razor clams are scientifically known as Ensis Directus and colloquially as Atlantic jacknife clams or bamboo clams. The shells are about six to eight inches long, three-quarters of an inch across, and contain a long set of clam innards with a “foot” at one end, and a siphon on the other.
In the last decade a new method, salting, has caught on that makes razor clamming a breeze, one that originated in Ireland and then spread to the East Coast of the U.S.. The way it works is simple. Razor clams have a finite tolerance to salinity. Make their environment too salty and they will move, often quite vigorously. The simplest method, demonstrated in this Japanese video, is to sprinkle some salt over the razor clam’s keyhole shaped breathing hole. The salt irritates the clam, the clam first retracts, then, finding no relief, literally ejects itself upwards. Another technique is to bring along an empty plastic soda bottle, fill it with saltwater, and add enough table salt to get an ultra-salty mixture. Pour a little down the hole, and the same effect. Clam is annoyed, pops out of the hole, and the clammer snares it.
On Cape Cod the commercial razor clam fishery has grown significantly, especially around Pleasant Bay on the east end around Chatham and Orleans. A 2005 paper on the effects of salting by some Worcester Polytech students estimated the 30 licensed commercial razor clammers in Orleans could take 300 pounds of clams out of the flats per day, raising a concern that the pressure would wipe out the flats and decimate the population (interestingly, Atlantic razor clams are considered an invasive species around Germany’s Elbe River estuary). Demand, according to the paper, is driven by the Asian and Italian markets.
The preferred commercial technique on the Cape is to salt the clams using plastic garden sprayers: the kind with a nozzle and a pump. One just walks the flat looking for the distinctive holes, gives them a squirt and then waits a few seconds for the clam to pop out.
How interesting! I’ve never been able to catch a razor clam for the reason you cite. However, I knew about the salting trick, but I always felt it fell in the same category of shooting sitting ducks, jacklighting deer, and baiting bears. Not cricket in other words.
Long considered a Northwest delicacy. My favourite preparation is razor clam hash for breakfast! They’re plentiful out here, with strict harvest regulations to ensure they stay that way…
We live in Yarmouth port and I am interested in taking my son clamming. Where can we find out where we can go clamming and the times to go?
However, it is not too difficult to dig them with a rake… I can easily get 5 or 10 gallons of them per tide by digging. One of the tricks is to dig fairly rapidly at first, try to see the top of the clam and which way it is burrowing, then quickly shift your stance so that you are digging in the same direction in which the clam is moving…
To further clarify, the razors have a slight curve in their shells, and it seems like they dig down in an arc, so, try to see which way the arc is headed as you start digging, and then shift and dig in that direction. Sometimes they’ll arc down for about a foot or so and then seems like they’re almost going horizontal.
Lina was no smaller than the average thumb. Jokingly, it’s why her parents called her Thumbelina from time to time.
Of course, they couldn’t possibly be her biological parents. No, Lina had been born one clear, spring morning- sprouting from a magical flower.
Growing a few inches high, her parents warned her constantly of the dangers of the outside world. But Lina, curious and innocent, set off to find her own path.
Along the way she stumbled upon a gang of woodland creatures, and she thought only to show compassion to them. Entranced by her beauty, they fought among themselves for who might make her their bride.
Though Lina was small and born of a flower, she had the appearance and traits of a normal human girl. She couldn’t fathom why the animals began to quarrel, and became frightened enough to run away.
The Toads, Mr. and Mrs., who fancied a wife for their dim-witted son- lashed out at poor Lina with their tongues.
“They’re going to eat me!” The girl screamed, as they wrapped their slimed ropes around her waist and yanked her towards them.
The Fishes, who didn’t need much of an excuse to fight with the Toads, leapt from the nearby river. They slapped their tails and bodies, releasing Lina from her slippery bonds.
But all too soon, did she fall into the clutches of the flies- who fancied themselves a pretty bride for their lord.
They swooped in clusters, lifting her high above the ground, before dropping her into the arms of their master- the stag beetle.
The war pressed on for Lina’s hand, though she believed they wanted her for a meal and not at all for marriage.
The Mice clan came out of their holes bearing fine armor. Mr. Mole dug out holes to ensnare his enemies. A little blue bird joined the fight, falling desperately in love with Lina the moment his beady eyes fell upon her.
And then it happened- a shrill call piercing the angry hoard. Silence ensued, weapons fell, and the fallen were quietly mourned.
Whistling horns billowed, and the flap of wings filled their woodland space with a gentle breeze. As Lina shielded her eyes, she could feel her hair being blown away from her face.
The creatures around her began to bow, one by one, as a swan landed with a final swoosh onto the river’s edge.
“My, my.” The boy tsked, before turning to face Lina. She bowed quickly, terrified of this seemingly new threat. “Am I not a good prince?”
“Then I shall solve this problem immediately.” He was before Lina now, and she could see the needle of a sword in his belt.
“Please don’t kill me!” She shrieked. The prince seemed taken a back by this plea. He reached out his hand, and she took it, slowly standing before him.
“My dear girl, is that you think these subjects are here to do? To kill you?” She muttered a yes, to which he let out a hearty laugh.
“No, no. They wish to make you a bride! And a bride you shall be!” He knelt down before Lina, revealing a ring perfectly sized to fit her finger.
She could scarcely believe what was to happen next. A fairy prince wished to marry her! How her parents would be thrilled.
How thrilled was she! To think that there was probably no one who could ever truly love her. And how the prince had come to love her. Of course, it wasn’t love at first sight, but as they soared across the countryside on his regal swan- he couldn’t help but feel she was already so dear to him.
Their wedding day finally arrived. Her parents had attended, drying their tears on handkerchiefs so as not to drown the other guests.
“You may now kiss the bride!” The prince dipped Lina, and the crowd of fairy folk and woodland creatures began to cheer.
It should be noted that you should always mind where you step. For Lina’s overly-excited father did not. And squished the newly-wedded pair flat.
Ps… my husband was prettttty sick this week so, I played nurse instead of reading. Book review next week, I promise. Maybe. 😝