I have a hard and fast rule with sandwiches: if you have to bring out the toolbox to make it happen, it’s not worth making it at home.
Sure, I just made up that rule yesterday, but them’s words to live by. Pull out your thread and needle and cross-stitch that maxim for your wall. Fingers and eyeballs should not be put in peril just for the sake of a sandwich. I have a toddler, so those things are already in mortal danger most of the day. I don’t need a foodstuff adding to the list of “things that put my body in jeopardy.”
**Legal-ish disclaimer: no fingers or eyeballs were lost in the making of this week’s sandwich. Thank God.
Let’s (clam) dive right into the (clam) meat of this week’s (clam) sandwich, shall we? It’s the seemingly innocuous but actual death trap of a sandwich, the Rhode Island fried clam roll.
Going into this week I didn’t think this sandwich would be so dangerous. (I’ve also blindly stuck my hand pretty far into a mole hole to rescue a toy car, so there’s also the distinct possibility that I am an idiot). I knew clams were shellfish and we’d have to shuck them, but I’ve watched Top Chef LOADS of times and those professional chefs with their professional equipment with years of professional training make it look so easy! Surely we could do it with no experience and all of the wrong tools at our disposal.
That. Was Not. The Case.
Nate and I bought a little over three pounds of clams, realizing that the shells accounted for the bulk of the weight and we’d (ideally) like to both eat dinner. In the past, when we’ve had elements of dinner that were more labor-intensive, we did meal prep ahead of time. But shellfish doesn’t really lend itself to that luxury, so we were cornered into shucking right before frying, which left us very little room for error.
Nate got started a little ahead of me and had the presence of mind to watch a few internet videos showing you how it’s done, with tips on how not to cut your hand open in the process. I, however, had casually skimmed a wikihow article on the topic which I presumed gave me all the knowledge I needed on the subject.
Five minutes in and probably a dozen mistakes that would make a professional shucker keel over in dispair, Nate realized that we would not be eating clams if we were responsible for shucking them. Out came the hammer and screwdriver.
And I have to say, those tools got those clams shucked in no time flat. Sure, shards of shell flew willy-nilly about and I’m sure there’s gobs of information on the Internet explaining why that isn’t the preferred method of opening clams, but why let the Internet bring you down after the fact, you know?
So out went about 2.95 pounds of shell and we were left with the wee-ist amount of clam meat to show for our (Nate’s) efforts. Regardless, we had the meat. Now all we had to do was buttermilk ‘em, bread ‘em, and fry ‘em.
After my success in frying the chicken for Oregan’s Fried Chicken Biscuit Sandwich, I helmed the frying station this time. And I was nailing it for the first fifteen seconds. At that point, the oil *POPPED* and splattered 350-degree liquid everywhere in its immediate vicinity. Including my face.
*Legal-ish disclaimer: No faces were permanently or temporarily marred in the making of this sandwich.
Fortunately, it was scarier than it was catastrophic. But it could have been bad, which had me on edge for the remainder of the frying time, which luckily was only about sixty more seconds.
And in another stroke of luck, we had just enough fried clams for two sandwiches! This was great news because, in a perfect world, we both like to eat at dinner time.
The sandwich was…fine. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t super memorable, it definitely wasn’t worth the life-endangering effort.
The cornflour coating on the clams was nice, but clam meat is very mild. So at the end of the day, it tasted like we were eating fried breading in a nice brioche bun. It didn’t elevate the clam. In fact, I feel like I could have just fried up the batter, thrown it in a roll, and called it a vegetarian clam roll without really being able to tell the difference.
Nate pointed out that the individual fried clams were nice little poppers and they would make a great appetizer — at a restaurant where someone else did the shucking and frying. And I don’t think he’s wrong. At the end of the day, when I’ve taken my last bite of sandwich, I just don’t want my takeaway to be “the breading was nice.”
Would I get this sandwich at a restaurant? Maybe, but I think probably not. If you’re a restaurant specializing in fresh seafood and have this on the menu, I’d rather pick something a little less fried. If you’re a restaurant not specializing in fresh seafood and have this on the menu, I’d rather pick something other than clams.
Or maybe I’m missing something and this is actually an incredible sandwich. But you know what I’m for sure not missing? My fingers and eyeballs. And that makes this a not-too-bad week.
Hungry for more?
Meals are better when shared.