Shelter Island clambakes have history of their own

The Shelter Island clambake is epic, a feat of culinary engineering perfected thousands of years ago by the indigenous people who lived along the Northeast coastlines. They created beachside meals using sand, rocks, firewood and seaweed that, when carefully assembled like a multi-layered cake, slowly steamed clams, mussels, lobsters, fish and whatever vegetables they were growing. The feast — days in the making — could satisfy dozens, maybe hundreds, and when all were sated, a high tide would simply wash the remnants into the sea.

Little has the clambake changed, save for a few modern implements, such as wire baskets to hold the food, or flat-headed shovels to pile on the final inches of sand. This extraordinary method of cooking has been passed through generations of Shelter Islanders. You can’t simply tell someone how to put on a clambake, they have to learn by watching and doing, and being very quick about it.

Anyone who has ever built a clambake is emphatic: It’s all about the rocks. Not just any old rocks. These must be hard, like granite. Flat-sided. And big, at least the size of a football. Find some good rocks and you might get two or three bakes out of them. But one thing is for sure — without a solid base of rocks, your clambake is a bust.

Keith Clark grew up in the Mashomack woods and helped his family put on dozens of clambakes, like campouts with his cousins and the Clark-Sanwald annual family gatherings. Days of preparation. Hours of burning. Sweeping. Piling. Covering. Cleaning. Husking. Apportioning the food in cheesecloth bags. And hours more of cooking — with nary a peek.

“You can’t see what’s going on underground,” Keith says. “You cross your fingers and wait.”

He remembers one clambake he put on for a friend’s wedding at the Rams Head Inn. He was assured that the existing sand bed on the lawn was adequate. Alas, the sand was lacking, the rocks didn’t get hot enough and despite hours of cooking, the lobsters crawled out.

“It was a disaster,” Keith says.

The lobsters were rounded up and dispatched to the Inn’s kitchen where they met their demise in kettles of boiling water. Tom Hashagen, the chef at the time, “saved me,” Keith says.

So, yes, it’s all about the rocks.

You soon learn, however, that all clambake components are also vitally important. The sand has to be dry so the earthen oven can retain its energy source. The firewood needs to burn hot and long. The seaweed has to be rock weed and it has to be damp. The brown algae grows in the inter tidal areas along the Island’s rocky shores. It accumulates nutrients and minerals from the seawater and is often used as packing material for lobsters and crabs. Rock weed, Keith says, “adds a lot of flavor” to the bake.

The sheets and tarps must be dry, made only of natural fibers and absolutely dye-free (who wants to eat a purple clam?)

Ray Congdon III has been mastering clambakes since his early 20s, learning the intricacies from Skip Tuttle and Stan Lenox, two ol’ salts who worked the Island’s waters for decades and relished every minute of it. Their clambakes were legendary, raucous feasts of camaraderie, laughter and plenty of beer.

Ray, who by day works for the Town Highway Department, has made Clambakes and Pig Roasts a flourishing side business for the last 15 years. (He learned the art of the pig roast from Frank “Frankie Klen” Klenawicus and Joe “Taps” Taplin.) He figures he’s put on some 25 clambakes so far. Weddings. Private parties. Family affairs. You name it.

On July 18 he and his crew will pull the tarps off a mound full of food for the Shelter Island History Museum’s Red, White & Blue gala to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. From the beach at the former Artemas Ward estate in Shorewood, he expects to feed 250 people a feast of clams — top necks, little necks and cherrystones (“lady clams,” Ray calls them, because of their dainty size) — mussels, corn, chicken, potatoes and lobsters. He’ll grill some steaks, too.

The preparation begins days ahead of time. Ray and his right-hand man, Brett Page, first scope out a suitable location on the Shorewood beachfront for the bake’s bed. The spot must be absolutely dry, well above the high-water mark, and level.

They’ll dig a solid base of about 12 inches of dry sand for a bed that will measure about 8 feet by 10 feet. Then the rocks come into play, wedged tightly together like a jigsaw puzzle. Smaller rocks and stones fill the gaps. The area is covered with plywood and tarps to keep it dry. The crew then stacks 2 1/2 full cords of oak near the clambake bed and covers them.

What happens on the day of the clambake is a carefully orchestrated scurry. Ray divides his workforce of 12 into three crews. One is at Ray’s shop scrubbing mussels, cleaning clams, potatoes and husking corn. (The seafood arrives on the first boat.) Each ear must be deprived of its silk and carefully husked so only a few protective layers remain. Chicken soaks in a marinade.

Another crew is pulling rock weed away from the rocks at the end of Dawn Lane in Hay Beach. After harvesting 12 to 15 bushels — at either low or high tide — the crew brings the hefty burlap bags to Shorewood and hangs them over the dock to keep the algae wet and alive.

With the sun up barely an hour, a third crew is at the beach stoking a huge bonfire over the bed’s rocks. The hot fire is tended for five to six hours. Crews then converge to ready the “runway” — a long line of tables where cheesecloth-lined wire baskets full of shellfish, chicken and vegetables await their clambake cues.

As the wood breaks down into coals and ash, the rock weed comes out of the water and drains for a half-hour.

By now it’s about 1:30 p.m. The crew has roughly 10 minutes to put the layers on the bake. Any longer and the rocks lose too much heat.

Ready? Set your watches. Go:

1. Coals and ashes are swept from the red-hot rocks.

2. Rock weed is piled on top of the rocks and molded to make a protective border.

3. Three bushels of chowder clams go next.

4. Followed by baskets of chicken, corn and sweet potatoes.

5. Up to 1,000 top necks come next.

6. Then mussels, little necks and cherrystones.

7. Throw on the lobsters and whole fish if you got.

8. Cover with a cotton sheet

9. Add more rock weed

10. Another bedsheet for good measure.

11. Cover all with heavy, colorless canvas tarp.

12. Shovel sand all over like crazy.     

Soon the sand bleaches out as moisture disappears. If you want to gauge how much heat and energy is in the rocks just wait an hour or so. “If you push your hand into the sand, the tips of your fingers will burn,” Ray says. (This is not recommended.)

The crew keeps watch to make sure no steam escapes. If it does, more sand is piled on.

After at least four hours of cooking, it’s time for what Ray calls “the big unveil.” The most rewarding moment after days of hard work.

Sand is carefully shoveled off, exposing the tarp, which is then swept clean. Keeping sand out of the food is paramount. “One kick into the clambake, and you’re done,” Ray says. The tarp is carefully rolled off the mound’s top. As layers from the bake are hoisted away, the food returns to the runway and placed in chafing dishes.

One tradition takes precedence before any food is served: The elder of the group is given the first clam to come off the bake.

The flavor, tenderness and texture of a beach-steamed clam cannot be matched, Ray says. He recalls how Stan Lenox tried to replicate the taste without the time-consuming effort of a clambake. He steamed them. Boiled them. Baked. Broiled. Even used a pressure cooker. “He tried everything,” Ray says. “Couldn’t do it.”

But beyond the satisfaction of delivering a flavorful bounty of simple food is the sheer pleasure of working among impassioned clambake comrades. How the joy of doing is the learning and visa versa. “It’s so awesome,” Ray says. Young people, including his son, Wesley, are always on Ray’s crew. He wants to make sure clambake traditions live on and get better with enthusiasm and experience.

As long as the rocks are hot.

The Red, White & Blue 250th Gala takes place on Saturday, July 18 at the Artemas Ward Garden in Shorewood. A cocktail reception begins at 6; dinner at 7. Tickets are $400 and can be purchased by visiting shelterislandhistorymuseum.org, the museum or the Havens Farmers Market on Saturdays.