I had to make clam chowder at school today. Correction: I GOT to make clam chowder at school today. It had fresh cream, fresh clams, homemade broth, and a little shaker of the love I put into everything I do. I call that love “apathy.” I didn’t even taste it as I made it,save once when I tasted the soup BEFORE the clams got added back in to the mix. Basically meaning it’s possible I tasted one or several molecules of clam liquor, and it wasn’t horrendous. But here’s the deal-how in the name of the beauty that is womanhood am I supposed to EAT something that looks like this when it comes out of its shell?
For fuck’s sake!
Now if this weren’t enough of a culinary farce, I have recently seen a NEW clam coming into popularity called a geoduck clam (pronounced “gooey duck”). Again, I’m not lying about this. Here is a very standard, run-of-the-mill picture of a geoduck clam:
I don’t know how fishermen manage to keep a straight face while they’re scooping ocean-porn onto their boats. Nor do I know how any straight man could cut this up and eat it.
I know I wasn’t about to eat those littleneck clams at school though. I wanted to cover their shame with a paper towel. Or at least find the part of the kitchen where they keep the All-Clad speculums.