Last weekend, Ebo and I packed up the car with Metro shelving, shorts, t-shirts and Tevas and headed to Cape Cod.
Some of my happiest memories from childhood are from the summers I spent in West Dennis, in the little house right behind the dune we rented every year. It was there I learned to love falling asleep to the sound and scent of the ocean; to get up before every one else for a private swim in the surf; to raise a kite high in the sky on a seemingly windless day; and to lust after steamers, lobster and fried clam bellies.
By coincidence, my son Zak (who did not grow up going to the Cape) ended up living in Dennis this summer. He and his girlfriend, Hope, won seed money (in a business competition hosted by their college, Skidmore) to start an ecologically sensitive sea salt harvesting business. Their company, Wellfleet Sea Salt, marks the revival of a Cape Cod industry that once boasted four hundred forty two companies—and more recently had none. Zak and Hope designed and built the very cool barges pictured below, which look more like something you might see floating on the Mekong than in Dennis, Massachusetts.
After many years of running our own small businesses, Ebo and I thought we might be able to help them get set up and organized. (Thus the car full of metro shelves, the metal units found in many restaurant kitchens, whose very presence all but guarantees a proper place for each and every packing slip, purchase order and adhesive label). Besides, it had been years since I’d had good fried clams. Most places that make fried clams do strips, not bellies. Crazy. Not only that, but they make them with clams that have been out of the water more than a couple of hours. Really crazy. To learn almost everything you need to know about good fried clams go to this wonderful award-winning story written by my colleague David Leite. (But please understand that I do not share David’s preference for Ipswich clams. I want my clams straight out of the Cape waters).
There was something else drawing us to the Cape. Our friends Tamar Haspel, author of the blog Starving Off the Land, and her husband Kevin Flaherty moved to the Cape from New York City three years ago. Tamar’s blog is a smart and often funny chronicle of their efforts to grow and raise as much of their diet as possible. Its arrival in my inbox triggers a Pavlovian response: I immediately stop work to gobble her words.
Lately, Tamar has been posting (boasting?) about the gorgeous and surprisingly large striped bass they’ve been catching. I needed me some of that, so I mentioned to her I was coming their way…
Tamar and Kevin invited all of us to dinner. To our delight, she offered to lay out provisions from their gardens, hen house and boat (!) and we would cook up a mighty feast together.
First, she patiently taught us her method for filleting striped bass. Ebo and I were surprised by her approach, which is counter to the way we would have done it– but every bit as (or more?) efficient and effective. I guess that’s part of what makes Tamar and Kevin’s life so interesting: they read voraciously and research, but often put new twists on established methods– whether for raising pigs, creating a vegetable garden, building a hen house or keeping bees. They are, in a word, inventive. And incredibly generous to let the kids learn on their fish.
Hope, a former vegetarian, was as excited to learn as any of us– and did a great job. We think she has a future as a fishmonger.
I wanted to learn Tamar’s method, which meant cutting towards me. It is completely counter to my instincts and training to do so, but it works.
But dinner was not just fish. Kevin pulled some carrots…
Hope and Zak gathered radishes and stopped to talk to Curious Hen…
And at some point, someone picked enough strawberries and cut enough rhubarb that we were able to make a crisp for dessert.
Just before the sun set, we grabbed a few eggs from the hen house.
And Tamar and Kevin gave us these beautiful blue, green, beige and brown eggs to take home:
Finally, it was time to cook. This is where my pictures end because this is when we opened the wine. I will leave you with a tried and true recipe that we adapted for the herbs growing in their garden and the thick fillets from the enormous — and enormously tender, sweet and moist– fish they caught.
Simple Roast Fish Fillets
This is one of life’s great pleasures: a dish that is as good as the ingredients will allow. There are no fancy techniques and no tricks: Just fresh fish and herbs, good extra virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. I like it best when made with striped bass or red snapper.
1 1/2 pounds fish fillets
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano or marjoram
1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Coat a sheet pan or the bottom of the broiler pan with cooking spray or brush it lightly with oil. (The pan must have low sides for the fish to cook properly). Place the fish, skin side down, on the pan.
2. Whisk the olive oil, salt, lemon juice and lemon zest together; spoon evenly over the fish. Sprinkle the fish with the thyme and oregano and roast in the center of the oven until the center pulls apart with little resistance, about 13 minutes. (The fish should have just lost its translucency. Use a fork or butter knife to pry it gently apart along a natural seam in the flesh and peek in.)
Makes 4 servings
Kimberly Winter Stern says
I feel like I’ve just read the most wonderful adult version of a fairytale, with the added bonus of a recipe. Thank you for sharing!
Marge says
Kimberly–I am fairly certain Tamar and Kevin don’t think it is a fairy tale when they are figuring out what to do with stinky decaying fish heads or cleaning out the pig pen– it is a lot of hard and sometimes dirty work, I’m sure. But it sure did look great from my perspective! And the kids were starry-eyed and ready to follow in their footsteps…
edward magel says
So wonderfully cool and in snyc with life’s journeys that Zach and Hope have taken on this soujourn!
I’m so pleased you share your life’s adventures and appreciate them to the extent that you do. If not i would have to hunt you down and torture you!
Heigh ho!
Marge says
I just love what they are doing, and am watching their adventure with respect and a little envy.
Kristin says
What a beautiful adventure! I want to visit Wellfleet! And start a garden now! Love!
Marge says
Oh, me, too. Until the winter…
Tamar@StarvingofftheLand says
Marge, now I’m going to be suspicious of everything you write. You make us, and our life, sound so much more interesting and look so much more beautiful than it actually is that you’ve lost all journalistic credibility with me!
From our point of view it looked more like this: Hey, we’ve got all this produce and all this fish, and our friends Marge and Ebo are going to be on the Cape. Let’s make them come over and cook it all for us!
That you were willing not just to go along with it, but make it both fun and delicious, is a testament to your good nature. We loved that fish. And everything that went with it. And the company.
And I like the picture of me and Hope and the filet.
Come back soon, will you? In a couple months, we’ll have tomatoes and eggplants and bluefish and clams and wild mushrooms and cucumbers and …
Marge says
I’m there.
laurie says
i am so impressed with what Zak and Hope are creating. They are exraordinary.,
Marge says
I love the daily updates: knowing how much water has evaporated, which method works best for filtering, and all the rest. It is really fun following their journey.
Ebo says
Tamar, it was a blast. I’ll (we’ll come over and cook for you anytime). You even got me to enjoy raw oysters. A testament to your fairytale life as presented by the words of Marge Perry.
David Leite says
Marge, I would expect no less of someone who spent so much time on the Cape to adore Cape fried clams! It’s loyal, just, and right.
Great read here. And thank you for the mention.
David
Marge says
I suppose it is akin to the way most of us feel about our mothers’ meatloaves– nobody else makes meatloaf quite as good as your own Mom’s.
Zak and Hope says
Thanks! We had a great time with you guys and the organization was desperately needed (I promise we don’t live in complete squalor!). Can’t wait until next time.
Jane says
Hi!
My name is Jane and I’m with Dwellable.
I was looking for blog posts about Dennis to share on our site and I came across your post…If you’re open to it, shoot me an email at jane(at)dwellable(dot)com.
Hope to hear from you 🙂
Jane