Plate to Plate

Last week couldn’t have been more perfect for a beach vacation — the sun was cranked up at full blast, the breezes were warm, puffy little clouds skipped across the sky. Outside of our rental house, the waves were gentle and the biting insects few and far between. I could have stayed forever.

But indulging in lobster rolls, fried clams, and steamers in perpetuity would probably not be that great for me.

We were at the Cape for a family reunion, and I volunteered to lead a group on a little clam shack tour. We set out one afternoon to sample four of the best shacks on the Cape, four caravans of seafood-loving adults and a handful of adventurous kids, and a styrofoam cooler full of cheap beer.

Four clam shacks? What were we thinking? We made it through three, then called it a day over ice-cold beers and big plates of steamers, our bellies stuffed, our lips briny and buttery. We compared notes, declared our personal favorites, and toasted our good fortune.