Issues → July/August 2008 → Features →

Clambake on Prudence Island

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They build the bake in less than 10 minutes. A thick layer of Maine rockweed goes on top of the stones, providing the steam and much of the briny flavor. The lacy bundles begin to smoke and pop. Wire pallets filled with food are hoisted on top of the incendiary rocks and seaweed, billowing with white smoke: two bushels of steamer clams first, followed by 50 pounds of potatoes and onions, then chorizo sausage, ears and ears of corn, 25 pounds of cod fillets, and 150 lobsters. From the sea the men drag a tarp, heavy from soaking in the saltwater, and place it on top of the four-foot-high pile, securing it with rocks. "A lot of drama," laughs Bill. "Now we wait."

In the two hours it takes for the bake to "do its thing," boatloads of guests arrive, and the green lawn starts to hum with chatter and music. With every visitor, the coolers get fuller and the food table nearly buckles under the weight of all the pizzas, antipasto trays, dips, chips, and party platters. Some of the kids do belly flops off the docks into the bracing water, while others search for crabs and mussels in the crevices of rocks. Babies take tentative first steps toward full-fledged walking, and cousins catch up with one another. Other folks take a well-deserved nap in the warm sun.

Two hours later, everyone gathers as the Days remove the tarp and reveal the bake. Bill and his sons examine the lobsters: perfection. As efficiently as the bake was assembled, the food is served, and no one on Prudence Island that day can remember clams and lobsters ever tasting so good.

Photographs by Erik Rank