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Serving suggestion.Actual size.Not actual size.
She-Does-Her-Best-to-Suit-Herself Cynthia brought me a soooouuvenir from Masserchewsetttts. The package copy, she said, was in Chinese, so to the best of her knowledge, this is an eraser. I have not tasted it because, only to the best of my knowledge, this is a sandwich. The best of my knowledge is about 73% and the remainder is uncertain. Perhaps I will just give it a sniff and a small lick to determine animal, vegetable or mineral.

Just back from vacation, I-Do-My-Best-To-Suit-Myself Cynthia sent an epostcard. She does do her best and I’ll be clammed if she don’t do clam well. Been trying to take a whole chapter from her book, but here I sit in the clam-free zone of NoVa, while she vacations AGAIN. If I gaze deep into my naval, I have to admit that there is no winning for Cynthia. Were she to go and not take pictures for me, I would be mad. And if she goes and does take pictures for me? Madder still. Mad as a hat-free clammer. I wanna go to the Clam Box. I do.

Lean back, close your eyes, imagine the smell of hot fat wafting out the top of the ductwork. Hot fat with clam juice bubbles bursting all over the surface. Snap, snap, snap.That scent being sucked into the hood and up, up, up, to the rooftop. Spreading, drifting, tenting and floating down into your hair, nose, mouth. Long as you are not the one to ever clean the greasetrap, it is a good smell, densely delicious. Almost tactile. Summer in an oily mist.

If you have to have relations, make sure they live near the Clam Box. That is so mean. What I mean is…we should all be so lucky to have relations who live near the Clam Box. That’s better.

Ahh, our favorite sandwich joint in Ipswich, the clam box.

OK, truth be told, they serve a delicious rolled-up lobster (Freya’s term for a lobster roll) but that’s not what keeps you coming back.

It’s the delicious fried Ipswich clams. We aren’t talkin no Howard Johnsons. They MELT in your mouth and taste deliciously clammy. I have never had fried clams that even come close. Heaven!

You can get them on a sandwich but, um, why would you? They are already breaded to perfection.

The clam chowder is fabulous too. Oh, nobody does clams like Ipswich. I can practically taste them now. Briny yet sweet and as fresh as a morning ocean breeze…..Mmmmmm.  Ever notice how clam is an anagram for calm? I think there’s something to that.

So, this place gets my vote as a great place to have a lobster roll (and it really is a VERY good lobster roll) with a nice side of clams. And that’s just what I had.

Here’s my other favorite thing about this restaurant: You have to love a place where you order at a window and take your meal to the picnic tables. But, at the Clam Box, you’re using those picnic tables at your own risk. If they suddenly flip, you can’t say they didn’t warn you (people must really eat a LOT of fried clams here). Thank goodness we enjoyed our picnic meal without incident or injury.

Waiting patiently at the window.Be CAREFUL!!! (Editor’s note: Is that an image of a picnic table flipping?? If so, effective, let me tell you!)Bo with the lobster roll.Lobster rolls and delicious fried clams (at a seemingly stable picnic table).Julie had the haddock sandwich which she said was very good.Chowder! (Editor’s note: Does Jon know this photo is posted? If so, he is one helluva guy with his ego in check.)Pick a flower and put it in your hair before you go.

Food is not an uncommon topic on the Bottle Rockets message board, and the subject of sandwiches with fries on ’em, or sandwiches that were simply fries on bread, came up under the subject line, Only in America. I have written several times about Primanti Bros in Pittsburgh, a beloved sandwich joint that is world famous for the quality of their goods, their atmosphere and, particularly of note, the fact that the sandwiches are loaded with fries.

Here is the thread, which I followed with great interest. Oh, and yes I know I have been beating my patrons over the head with my Bottle Rockets mania lately. They do, in case you have not heard, have a fantastic new release, Lean Forward, and so I am a bit more frenzied that usual. No matter what you ask me, I stay on topic. The answer is always, Lean Forward. Apologies. And not.

by Hot Rod Girl on Sat Aug 22, 2009

Not only in America. One of my old roommates was British and used to talk nostalgically about something he ate back home…I forgot what it was called, but it amounted to french fries served on a bun like a sandwich.

by Million Miler on Sat Aug 22, 2009

French fries on a bun? you can eat that everywhere here in Belgium It will be something like a “baguette” (like a french bread). My dutch friends think I make it up!!

by decent e on Sun Aug 23, 2009

Hot Rod Girl wrote:
“Not only in America. One of my old roommates was British and used to talk nostalgically about something he ate back home…I forgot what it was called, but it amounted to french fries served on a bun like a sandwich.”

Maybe he was talking about this:
Chip Butty
Apparently called a “chip butty”. (See the photo above.)

by jersey on Sun Aug 23, 2009

In New Brunswick NJ from the “grease trucks” that park on the Rutgers campus, you can buy something called an Italian Hot Dog which is a hot dog on a hefty Italian roll also stuffed with fried onions and french fries. I downed many of these. Too many.

by Hot Rod Girl on Sun Aug 23, 2009

decent e wrote:
“Apparently called a “chip butty”.

YES! That was what it was called.

by Million Miler on Mon Aug 24, 2009

I learned something… that bun with fries is called “French hamburger” over here. (Million Miler is Dutch) Looks like this:

I dont know how it is served in the UK, but this has some fastfood meat in there too…
Brrrr!

by jersey on Wed Aug 26, 2009

midnight snack wrote:
“Rutgers greasetruck?? Please enlighten.”

Wikipedia gives a little of the flavor, but it’s somewhat naive & incomplete.
My guess it was written by thirty-somethings who think history started with them!
Actually, history started in the late 1960’s/early 1970’s when I was there.
The “trucks”– grease joined the nomenclature later, but I can vouch for the fact that it was plentiful in the sandwiches — were ALL parked on College Ave. across from the Commons.
They got there late at night and therefore didn’t compete with the school food services. (Well maybe they competed with breakfast.)

There was a parked-parade of trucks, at least 4 or 5 on a typical night, many more during exams. All independently owned & operated (& patronized) by very very colorful characters.
The trucks radiated the same insane tumult & craziness you feel at a very busy food stand in Manhattan at 3 AM.

You could get anything you wanted from ice cream to a whole fresh-baked pizza (baked from scratch right on one of the trucks), to a pretty decent cheese steak (not as good as the amazingly great ones at Greasy Tony’s down the street, but good and cheaper and closer to the dorms) to a Fat Burger (with fries on it) to an Italian Hot Dog (also with fries on it) to a Sausage Sub (with fries on it).

The fact that most of the sandwiches came with fries pre-loaded was decidedly the trucks’ differentiator, its raison-d’etre, even as far back as I go…
So the “fries on the sandwich” revolution definitely predates Fat Darrell and all the other 1990’s era posers….

That’s my pride and joy in this month’s Food Magazine. Poor child, his mother likes to sew. He says, why, oh why, can’t I wear t-shirts like all the other boys? I say he should count his blessings. The labels read, “Made especially for you by Lisa.” Could be worse. Consider, “Made especially for you by your loving mother.” Ha!

Photo by John Spaulding

Sometimes open. Sometimes closed.

Sometimes young. Sometimes old.

Sometimes begging. Sometimes proud.

Sometimes lost. Sometimes found. Exotic picnic covers the range, Veronica and Betty, nasty and nice, peanut butter and jelly, virtue and vice.

Sometimes breakfast. Sometimes lunch.

Sometimes whiskey. Sometimes punch.

Sometimes scholar. Sometimes dope.

Sometimes felon. Sometimes pope.

Took a turn down the lane with the plebian name, Snickersville Tpke – perhaps it was eponymous, in dedication to a departed pet, Snickers, a cocker spaniel maybe, or King Charles spaniel, a tri-colored critter. Stone walls or fences – we debated their differences – curled and roved the contours of the shoulder brambles, and that was the extent of the exotica. Got out to stretch, deliver the girl to summer camp, explore the meadow’s periphery. Wholesome as hell, it was that afternoon.

Wholesome as hell. Picnic exotica.There in the thistles, all by its lonesome, peaceful as a little dead bird, peanut butter and jelly, as though arranged by an undertaker. Seemed suspicious and I glanced over both shoulders.

Sometimes grown up. Sometimes child.

Sometimes thinkin. Sometimes wild.

Sometimes pray. Sometimes speak in tongues

Sometimes kneel. Neil Young.

Genuflected to take a closer look, just quick-like, not long enough to get itchy. No matter your hunger, you would not undertake to eat this still life. It still had life. I swear we saw it breathe, ever so softly, and rapidly, like the beating of small, leavened wings.

Sometimes potato. Sometimes rice.

Sometimes nasty. Sometimes nice.

Sometimes ma. Sometimes dad.

Sometimes happy. Sometimes sad.

What a beautiful day. What a beautiful day.

What a beautiful day for going home.

Sometimes open. Sometimes closed.

Sometimes young. Sometimes old.

Sometimes begging. Sometimes proud.

Sometimes lost. Sometimes found.

Sometimes lost. Sometimes found.

Spent several days at Rehoboth Beach in Delaware, with nary a sandwich encounter. Came close, but met with nothing remarkable. Rehoboth does bring to mind the one nagging flaw in Mad Men. The parents of Trudy Campbell, Pete Campbell’s wife, have a weekend place in Rehoboth. Do New Yorkers have weekend places in Rehoboth? Did they used to? Trudy claims it is only a 2 hour drive, or maybe she says an hour and a half. Could that be? Nah. It’s three hours from DC. Dang, people, Mad Men is the picture of perfection, down to the last neutron of minutia.Wah. Spell temporarily dispelled.

Squint hard and dispell the word “wrap”. Wraps cannot leave our planet soon enough for my taste. Soggy tortillas. Blech. Take me back to bread please, with a sealing patina of butter. Even bologna is good with butter.
Rehoboth can still take you back in time, if you squint hard enough, or smoke enough weed.One can picture the Drapers at breakfast at the Robin Hood. Think link. Link snausages. The morning we were there the special was watermelon. Watermelon.

Don, call home and let Betty know what time you’ll be there. She’ll have the sandwiches all packed and ready for the drive.

* Last season on Mad Men Peggy had, in a manner of speaking, a belly filler. And then she didn’t. Just finishing season 2 of Mad Men. Peggy’s line to Pete, “I had your baby and I gave it away”, still rings with devastation. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Vic Firth, Percussionist
Vic Firth Gourmet
The finesse of the grind ~ it’s all in the wrist.

As Seen in Champaign, Illinois

SIMPLY AMISH

(Is there any other kind? Ahem, Department of Redundancy Department.)

Further commentary from the peanut gallery. END ONE WAY? Yes, what a lovely idea. BEGIN ALL WAYS.

From Alacritous Chicago Correspondent Bottle Rocket(s) fan Linda:

april 3
hey lisa,

no, not monster mash.

L

april 14
the bubbles are sparse. are they s’posed to keep happnin?

if i stir it it revives a bit, but if left alone, the movement stops.

may 31
will send update on my amish experiment when i can….

back to the laboratory,
linda

june 3
the amish friendship bread turned out great!  one of life’s mysteries i suppose.  it was very moist but i think turned out as expected. i will be baking the next batch this week, as it is a perpetual kinda thing with the starter, every 10 days.  mark loved the bread, especially the loaf i put raisins into.

sending photos along of the batch that shouldn’t have turned out.
(2 year old starter, kept in the frig….REALLY???!?)
mark and i ate it and lived to tell. going in for more!

this new batch is very bubbly and gaseous. the bags keep falling off the counter due to the gas movement. L

Gaseous, bubbly, bags falling off counters. Friendship is so complex. And dangerous.

Does the superlative “ultimate” look comfortable preceding “turkey burger”? Nope.

How bout this? Wild Turkey Hot Dogs. Seen at the Rhinebeck Farmer’s Market this summer. Wild Turkey Hot Dogs. Took me a minute to gather together the critters. Turkeys, dogs, hot, wild. How many were going to St. Ives?

She said, “The Net Result is better.”
And I said, “We like Sandy’s Fish and Chips.”
“Oh yeah,” she said,”You have your things. Your things you like to do.”

We hadda do every kinda every summer thing. Fish Sandwiches at Sandy’s, Lobster Rolls at The Galley, fireworks on the beach, an Awful Awful from the Newport Creamery. Yadda, yadda, yadda, we hadda.

We had to do it last year, too. Barbara’s sandwich handle is Hold The Onion, and they did not. We like it like that, too. Onyum.

The two young looking-a-bit-more-each-year-like gentlemen held the table. The Youngers. Kids do move big. Nothing subtle atall about two nine-year-old boys. They move big. And transparently. Just like a slice of onion through a Handy Wack.

You know I can see your tonsils from here?

The fries, oh mie. Oh me oh mie. If we are not supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat? If we are not supposed to eat fries, why are they made of crispy potato and salt?

I would say that “Fish Burger” is a misnomer. I would index our lunch under fishwich. Burger? Wich? What’s the diff?

burg·er (bûr’gər)
n.
1. A sandwich consisting of a bun, a cooked beef patty, and often other ingredients such as cheese, onion slices, lettuce, or condiments. Often used in combination: a cheeseburger.
2. A similar sandwich with a nonbeef filling. Often used in combination: a crab burger; a tofu burger.

pat⋅ty  [pat-ee]
n.
1. Any item of food covered with dough, batter, etc., and fried or baked: oyster patties.
2. A thin, round piece of ground or minced food, as of meat or the like: a hamburger patty.

Well, for cryin’ out loud, lemme get this straight. A burger contains a patty, and a patty is covered with dough and fried. Hence, our fish burgers were fish burgers. Who woulda thunk?