Periwinkle snails, clams, and batter-fried zucchini flowers might seem like an odd combination, but in the world of Grandma and Grandpa, these spelled summer love. The front lawn of their house bordered a rock pile wall with a small dock. The back yard beyond the grape arbor was a huge garden of vegetables. On days when Grandpa would take us to gather periwinkles and go clamming, we knew that Gram would be in the garden picking zucchini flowers.
We loved clamming time with Grandpa at low tide on sandbars teaming with life. Before heading out Gram reminded us, “Now stay close to Papa.” And he answered, “Nancy, please, you teach them cooking. I teach them clamming.”
We raced to the beach stairs at the water’s edge because at the end we knew we would find hundreds of periwinkles, tiny black snails hugging the giant rocks and dock pilings. When we had filled three hefty buckets Grandpa would let us sit on the dock while he carried the buckets to the kitchen pantry.
Then it was clamming and mud time. “When you see that water squirting, you know it’s a clam,” was Grandpa’s mantra.
He used a tool to get to the clams, but we used our hands and small shovels. And each time we pulled up a clam, Grandpa’s voice rang out, “Eh, bravo.” But part of sandbar fun was to squish our feet in the cool, jet black mud where the clams nestled.
Once back home with overflowing buckets of clams, there Gram was smiling and waving her bar of Castile soap. “Into the outdoor shower you go.” While we dried off and dressed under the grape arbor, she went to the kitchen to make us zucchini flowers, dipped in egg, flour and milk — which turned crunchy in her huge black frying pan. After devouring the delicacy, we rested until dinner.
First course on clamming day was the periwinkle challenge. After boiling them for two to three minutes, Grandpa carried a large plate to the table and gave us toothpicks to pull them out of their shells and dip into hot butter. As we poked at the periwinkles, while Gram boiled the pasta for spaghetti and clams, she came to sit with us, asking: “Which of you threw the mud first?” We shrugged. “Who did Grandpa raise his voice to first? We lowered our eyes.
That’s when Gram said, “Just because Papa bellows, he still loves you, but he wants you to behave. Sometimes his raised voice means love. Everyone shows love in different ways. Love can be with zucchini flowers, periwinkles, or clams. But always it is a hug.”
Then, while Gram and Papa laughed contagiously, they enfolded us into their arms.
Rita Watson, an All About You relationship columnist, is writing “Italian Kisses: Gram’s Wisdom.”
Rita Watson: Clamming, zucchini flowers an …
… Rita Watson: Clamming, zucchini flowers and lots of love from Gram and Papa
Published on 13 July 2014/ Copyright 2014 R ita Watson