My New England Clam Chowder

New England Clam Chowder

My variation of my father's classic New England Clam Chowder recipe. My father was a true New Englander, born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island (later settled in New Jersey after marrying my mother who was from New Jersey). Dad's recipe used quahogs, the hard-shelled, round clams found along the eastern shores of North America. When my father was a young boy in Providence (in the days before so many rivers were polluted), his mother would send him down to the Providence River with a bucket and shovel to dig up the large quahogs and bring them home for chowder. Because fresh clams are not readily available where I live at this time of year, I am using canned boiled clams and bottled clam juice from Whole Foods Market (just clams and pure clam juice, no sodium or additives). I have also included directions for making the chowder with fresh clams.

My variations:
1) Using half-and-half instead of heavy cream, and 2) Using Yukon Gold potatoes instead of Russet potatoes. Yukon Golds have less starch. Makes a creamy chowder, but lighter and fewer calories using half-and-half and lower starch potatoes, such as Yukon Gold. However, for a more traditional, thicker chowder, use heavy cream and a starchy potato like Russet. Clam chowder is traditionally served with oyster crackers.

Getting Started:

Assembled ingredients

Clams, half-and-half, and minced fresh parsley

Ingredients: 

Makes a large pot of chowder

• Clams, two 10 oz. cans baby clams or 8 pounds of fresh clams (quahogs or large cherrystone clams)* (see below for using fresh clams)
• 6 cups Clam Juice, bottled pure clam juice or strained broth after cooking the fresh clams.* (see below for using fresh clams) 
• 2 lbs. Potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes (I used Yukon Gold for a lighter recipe. For thicker chowder, use Russet or another starchy potato.)
• 1 large Onion, finely chopped
• 3 stalks Celery, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
• 2 cloves Garlic, minced
• Fresh Parsley, minced, 1/4 cup for pot, plus some set aside for garnish
• 3 tablespoons Unsalted Butter 
• 2 cups Half-and-Half  (or heavy cream for a thicker chowder)
• 2 Bay Leaves 
• 2 tablespoons Cornstarch
• Salt and Pepper to taste

* Method for using fresh clams:

In a large pot, bring clams and 6 cups of water to boil over high heart. Cook until clams open (about 10 minutes). Discard any clams that do not open. Transfer clams to a large bowl and set aside. Strain broth twice through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl (to strain out all the sand). You should have 6 cups of broth. If not, add water or bottled clam juice to make 6 cups. When clams are cool enough to handle, remove them from their shells and cut into 1/2 inch pieces. Keep fresh clams chilled until ready to add to the chowder.

Directions:

1. In large pot or Dutch oven, sauté onion in the unsalted butter until softened but not brown. Add celery and garlic, and sauté just until celery is slightly softened. Add the clam broth, potatoes, bay leaves, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered until potatoes are tender (about 20-25 minutes).

2. In a small bowl, combine cornstarch with 2 tablespoons water and mix into a slurry. Stir into chowder until smooth and return to boil to thicken.

Clam Chowder simmering

3. For thicker chowder, mash a few of the potatoes against the side of the pot using a wooden spoon. (Doing this also lets you know that the potatoes are tender and ready for the next step.)

4. Reduce heat to low and pour in the half-and-half, parsley, and clams. (Adding the clams at the end helps to keep them tender. If they cook too long, they become tough.)

5. Simmer on low until heated through (being careful not to let it boil). 

6. Garnish with pats of butter and fresh, minced parsley. If desired, you can also garnish with chives or crispy bits of cooked bacon. Traditionally served with oyster crackers.

Clam Chowder garnished with a pat of butter and fresh parsley

New England Clam Chowder is good food on a cold winter's day. Enjoy!

Posting this for all my blog friends who love clam chowder, and most especially for my friend Rum-Punch Drunk who loves chowder and asked for the recipe (and writes a very thought-provoking blog!).

©2013JerseyLils2Cents, text and photos. 

~ If you share, please remember to link back, thanks! 

Memories of Dad

Thirty-two years ago, my father passed away on a cold day in March, and I still miss him. On this Father’s Day, I’d like to share some memories of him.

With my Dad when I was just a wee one! In New Brunswick, New Jersey.

My father, George, was thirteen years older than my mother and so came from a different generation. He was born in Providence, Rhode Island, back when Model-T’s shared the streets with horses and everybody knew their neighbor. His father (James) owned a butcher shop and had English roots in New England dating back to Colonial times. His mother (Madeline) was the daughter of Irish and Portuguese immigrants. (Sadly, my siblings and I never met our paternal grandparents, Madeline and James. Both died within three month of each other, long before we were born).  Aunt Agnes (my father’s younger sister) would tell us that their mother called George “the salt of the earth.” I like that! And as far as I’m concerned, my Dad was “the salt of the earth.”

The middle one of three children, Dad had wonderful memories of his childhood. He enjoyed playing baseball, had a paper route, and relished the times he would go down to the Providence River, clam-digging with his older brother, Bill (Dad made a mean clam chowder!). He loved movies and would save the money he made from his paper route to go to Saturday afternoon picture shows. He remembered when silent films became talkies, and was a fan of Mary Pickford and Charlie Chaplin. Because he was older than our playmates’ fathers, he had stories from a different era and his stories were captivating. His family home in Providence was across the street from where the acclaimed songwriter and entertainer, George M. Cohan, once lived. (George M. Cohan was famous for such early 20^th-century songs as “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” “Over There,” “I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy,” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.”) Now you get the picture of my father’s childhood. 

Dad when he was young (by car, hat in hand) with his parents and sister.
Providence, Rhode Island.

My father grew up in the Depression, served in the Rhode Island National Guard and later served in World War II. He met my mother, Carmela, in New Jersey, right after the war when my mother's brother, Uncle Ernie, who was serving with my father in the Army, arranged a date for them. My father was more than a decade older than my mother and he said it was love at first sight when he met her. He wrote beautiful love letters to her. He even recorded a love song for her at one of those music booths at the shore when they honeymooned in Atlantic City. He had no idea of my mother's bipolar illness (her family was not about to tell him and they were in denial themselves, as it turns out); he had no idea of what was later to come. The marriage vows of "for better or worse" were vows he took very seriously, and he never once abandoned my mother, even in her most difficult hours when she was rejecting him for others, and refusing to take her medications. About two and a half years after giving birth to my youngest brother, my mother was hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, my siblings and I were sent to an orphanage and foster care. Our family life was fractured, never to be whole again. The series of events broke my father's heart. But that story is for another time. This story is to celebrate Dad's life.

Mom and Dad (before I was a twinkle in their eyes).

Five years after they were married, my parents had me, then my three sisters and two younger brothers. Dad loved having a family. I learned to read at an early age because he read picture books to us every night. By the time I got to first grade, because of all that reading, I was already at third grade reading level. Story time at night was one of my best memories! That along with all the Irish lullabies he would sing to us in his baritone voice, the same tunes his mother sang to him when he was a child. If I close my eyes, I can still hear him sing, “Tura-Lura-Lura.”

And so I’ll close this post with “That’s an Irish Lullaby” for my Dad. Hope you’ll listen, it’s a lovely song. Happy Father’s Day!

All text and photos ©2012 JerseyLil’s 2 Cents.