It could be the rain coming down hard outside, droplets pummeling my windows, Lilliputian tributaries running in rivulets down the cloudy panes, or it could be the promise of the weekend spent in the salt air with my family, but today all I want is good clam chowder.
“But when that smoking chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained…It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuits and salted pork cut up into little flakes! the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt.”
“Chowder for breakfast, chowder for dinner, and chowder for supper, till you began to look for fish-bones coming through your clothes. The area before the house was paved with clam-shells. Mrs. Hussey wore a polished necklace of codfish vertebra; and Hosea Hussey had his account books bound in superior old shark-skin.”
Herman Melville, Moby Dick, from Chapter 15- “Chowder”