I can’t believe that it’s almost August and I’m only now writing a post on baked clams! Baked clams are one of our summer staples, usually consumed with pre-dinner drinks or as an accompaniment to whatever is really for lunch (yes, I live in a world where baked clams are a side dish). One of the reasons these make such a frequent appearance is because the same husband who loves to grill, also loves to clam. Amazing, “toeing” and “raking” for clams is also an activity our summer guests seem to love. Yes, that’s right, we send our guests into Shinnecock Bay, armed with rakes and mesh bags, to dig for clams. For all you consummate hosts out there, it’s as gratifying as it sounds: “Now get out there and find us something to eat!” The good news is that even if you don’t have a forager amongst your family or friends, clams are readily available at supermarkets and fishmongers.

While my clammers are wading, I’m in charge of the mise en place. Combine a stick of room temperature butter with 4 cloves of finely chopped garlic. This is more than enough for two dozen clams. Any extra can just be wrapped in plastic wrap and tucked in the fridge for next time or for another meal’s garlic bread.

In a bowl, mix freshly chopped parsley, freshly grated parmesan cheese and bread crumbs. (In a Martha-esque moment I recently used homemade breadcrumbs and the clams turned out under seasoned.)

Even if you buy your clams, you can still partake in the opening festivities, though I’ll warn you that it can be tough – and frustrating – work. Like so many other things in life, it gets easier with practice. A few weeks ago the NY Times Diner’s Journal had a good article on some of the tricks to opening clams. While you’re honing your skills, I might recommend purchasing your clams on the half shell.

Place your clams on a baking sheet and give each one a dime-sized dollop of garlic butter and then a healthy sprinkling of the breadcrumb mixture.

Bake in the top third of your oven at 350 for 8-10 minutes. Then broil until golden brown – keep a close eye as they’ll darken quickly. Squeeze some fresh lemon over the baked clams and eat. You’ll be as happy as a  . . . . (apologies, but how could I resist?).

During the summer my dining habits shift. The desire to eat out is replaced by the inspiration to cook at home. Restaurants are replaced by farm stands and fishmongers. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the shift has carried over to this blog. I hope you’ve not only been enjoying the posts, but have been similarly inspired. Maybe this crab cake will help . . .

My husband is from Virginia and we both went to college in Maryland. We have a soft spot for all things Chesapeake Bay. At the top of the list? Crab meat. More specifically, Jumbo Lump Crab meat.

Jumbo lump is the platinum standard of crab meat. The taste and texture is unmatched. It’s succulent, sweet and ideal for crab cakes. Once you have a crab cake made with jumbo lump, you’ll never go back. Or at least not happily.

A good crab cake satisfies a multitude of cravings. It’s protein-packed without being heavy. It’s browned without being greasy. The problem that befalls many a restaurant-prepared crab cake is the use of “filler.” Jumbo lump crab meat is expensive. Very expensive. It has to be hand-picked, a labor-intensive practice that runs the cost up to at least $30/pound. Filler – which can be anything from breadcrumbs to mayo to another type of crab or fish – reduces a restaurant’s raw ingredient costs. It also dramatically reduces the taste and quality of the crab cake.

So why leave yourself, and luscious jumbo lump, at the mercy of a restaurant?

As luck would have it, my mother-in-law is a master of the homemade crab cake. I’ve watched her make them for years, but just last night, made them for the first time myself. Now you can too.

Once you get your hands on the crab meat, the rest is easy. With some saltines, an egg, mayo, mustard, and a kick of cayenne, you’ll be on your way.

Because there is so little filler in these crab cakes, it might seem like they’re falling apart. Just pack them into the tightest cakes you can. Once they start cooking, they’ll stay together better. Ours browned quickly, so we covered the saute pan for a few minutes.

Some folks like to eat these on a bun, but when there’s jumbo lump and no filler, I’m a purist. A dollop of tartar sauce is all they need.

These crab cakes also make a blockbuster appetizer. Just reduce the size of the cakes for a pre-dinner treat.

Chesapeake Bay Crab Cakes

1 pound fresh jumbo lump crab meat
8 saltine crackers, crushed
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 tablespoon country dijon mustard
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1/2 teaspoon cayenne

Mix all the ingredients together. Shape into four cakes and sauté in hot butter until golden on both sides. Serve with tartar sauce.

Tarter Sauce is just mayonnaise, mustard, and pickle relish. Make your own!

I’ve been thinking a lot about New Orleans. It’s one of my favorite American cities. A truly amazing place, rich with culture and history, that doesn’t deserve the environmental and political disasters that have toppled its levees and oiled its waters. If you haven’t been to New Orleans it should be at the top of your list. When you do go, prepare to eat your way through its charming streets. You will experience unrivaled flavors and culinary traditions. Your mind and palate will be blown.

On our last trip to New Orleans, one of the greatest foods to grace our lips were the Chargrilled Oysters from Acme Oyster House, where oysters on the half shell are given the creole treatment – a healthy dousing of Acme’s seasoned butter and Romano cheese – before being cooked on an open flame. If you can believe it, they’re even better than they sound. Determined to recreate them, my grill-crazed hubby intently watched the oyster griller prepare these bayou jewels. This weekend we put his studies to the test.

The most important ingredient is the seasoned butter. Though Acme won’t give out their secret recipe, we made do with a Cajun Spice Blend. It’s a mix of paprika, celery seed, garlic, basil, white pepper, cayenne, thyme, and parsley. You can make your own or buy a pre-made bottle. Creole Seasoning would likely work too. Mix the spice blend with softened butter (about 4 TBSP per dozen oysters) to your desired level of heat and flavor. Next, grate some Romano cheese.

Apply a dollop of seasoned butter and a sprinkling of cheese to your shucked oysters. If you shuck these babies yourself, more power to you. We took the easy way out and bought them on the half shell. If you have options, choose a slightly larger, more plump variety of oyster.

Fire up your grill to medium heat, grab yourself a pair of cooking tongs, and watch the butter and cheese melt into oyster harmony. They don’t need too much time on the heat, so keep a close eye on the grill. Serve them straight off the grill, with lemon wedges and bread to sop up any extra butter. (For those of you who are grill-less, you can broil them in your oven, though they won’t have the same charbroiled taste.)

Not bad, huh? They looked and tasted like our fond Acme memories. We were pretty pleased with ourselves. So were our guests. Once the oysters were eaten, the only sounds were of forks and teeth chiseling away at every last crispy shred of cheese that had adhered to the shells.

If you enjoy these as much as I think you will, don’t make your new found ability to cook creole style an excuse not to go to New Orleans. I’m hoping for the opposite.

At this very moment you can only be asking yourself one question, Where can I get my hands on that gorgeous lobster roll? Pearl Oyster Bar? Ed’s? At some secret seafood shack whose name is about to be revealed? No, no, and no. The answer, dear eater-friends, is that I made that lobster roll. And yes, you can too.

Truth be told, I’ve had lobster rolls on the brain since my May trip to Pearl. When The Amateur Gourmet posted his homemaking lobster roll experience last week, my fate was sealed. It was only a matter of time before I would tackle this summer staple in my own kitchen. With helpers poised at the ready this past holiday weekend, I had my opportunity.

While making lobster rolls turned out to be much easier than I originally thought, it must be said that this exercise is not for the faint of heart. It involves the boiling of live crustaceans and the smashing of their claws. You and your kitchen will smell like lobster. You and your kitchen will get messy. Very messy. But it’s with my sincere apologies to the folks at PETA that I also must tell you, under no uncertain terms, that it’s totally worth it.

The most difficult part of the preparation was extracting the lobster meat. While the tail relents, the claws and knuckles are more stubborn. We did not have lobster crackers or mallets, but someone smartly suggested smashing the shells with the bottom of a frying pan. Did I mention this was messy business? It worked like a charm and was admittedly kind of fun.

Much of the lobster roll construction is about personal taste and it’s important to add the ingredients – mayo, chopped celery, etc. – slowly and with frequent taste tests until you get it just right. There is, however, a step that is not up for debate: the buttered and toasted bun. Whether you use a frying pan or a grill, it brings this luscious sandwich to the next level.

If my goal in making lobster rolls was to relieve myself of the craving, my plan backfired. I’m already looking forward to next time.

Lobster Roll

Five 1.5 lb lobsters yielded seven overstuffed rolls and a few extra forkfuls. (Your per roll cost should make you smile.)
finely chopped celery
mayonnaise (I used Light)
lemon
salt
pepper
hot dog buns – buttered and toasted

Bring a large pot of salted water to a rapid boil. Add the lobsters gently. Cover and cook for about 12-15 minutes. The lobsters are ready when they’re bright red. Remove lobsters and place in an ice bath to stop further cooking.

When the lobsters are cool enough to handle, either tear or cut off the tail and claws (including the knuckles). Remove the meat employing whatever tools your kitchen affords. Cut the meat into chunks and put in a bowl.

Add celery, mayo, some squeezes of lemon juice, salt and pepper. Taste and adjust accordingly.

Butter and toast hot dog buns. Pile on the lobster meat and eat!

Note: The lobster meat can be made in advance and refrigerated, but don’t chill the lobster meat before adding the mayo.

Managing expectations is a critical component of so many facets in life, from careers and relationships to movies, books, and food. More often than not, if we’re told something is the “greatest” or the “best ever,” it falls short of the hype. We end up disappointed instead of wowed.

When word came that The Best Chocolate Cake in the World, a Lisbon original, would be arriving on New York’s Spring Street, I was intrigued both as a foodie and a marketing professional. The self-aggrandizing moniker succeeds in tantalizing your taste buds and piquing your interest, but could the chocolate cake even come close to meeting the high expectations set by its name?

The Best Chocolate Cake in the World is actually more like a torte in that it’s flourless. There are two versions, a Traditional that has a 55% cacao content and a Bittersweet that has a 70% cacao content. Both will set you back $6.50 a slice.

The cake is made with Valrhona chocolate, constructed of thin layers of chocolate meringue and chocolate mousse, and glazed with a chocolate ganache.

The Traditional is way too sweet and tastes more like milk chocolate than 55% cacao. The crunchy meringue only bolsters the over-sugared taste while giving the torte an unappealing consistency that is granular and dry. A huge glass of milk was more of a necessity than a desire.

The Bittersweet is better. The deeper and more intense chocolate provides a much needed distraction from all the sugary layers. But it’s still far from the best chocolate cake in the world.

The name got me in the door, but the cake will not bring me back. There is many a chocolate confection in which I’d prefer to indulge, all of which cost a fraction of the price. Manage your expectations, New York.