CLAM BAM THANK YOU MA’AM

I was watching Rick Stein last night.

I am not proud of that and, to be fair all his “ Whenever I look at a fillet of Chubb, I can’t help thinking about that poem by W.B Yeats” bollocks drives me to mental distraction. Even though i have been known to quote Congreve on this blog in relation to a plate of jerk chicken!

However, while sipping on a small glass of something last night and being too idle to reach for the remote, I watched his French Odyssey where he pontificated about all things French, ate eels and quoted from whatever poet his researcher had dug up to say was his favourite.

Still, at some point he sat at a roadside café and ate clams and I could not help but be reminded of that passage from ….. Ah, stuff it, I just fancied some clams. No poetry, no citing Elizabeth D. I just wanted a bowl of clams

So another of my visits to Mr Hatt for a box of his Palourdes. Next door, to the grocer for some shallots, parsley and garlic and to Nicolas for the perfect accompaniment, a bottle of Muscadet.

Simple preparation, sweated off lots of garlic, shallots and some salt & pepper and then added the rinsed clams. A couple of glasses of white wine to make some steam and then finally huge amounts of parsley.

With a big plate of crusty bread to mop up those juices and some slow cooked chipolatas that happened to be in the fridge, this was as close as perfect as I can imagine without reading that poem by, damn, he’s got me doing it now.