The Clam Festival

FOR three days, normal life in our quiet little corner of the world is totally eclipsed by the Yarmouth Clam Festival, an annual church and school fundraising event one town over from where we live. It sounds like fun, doesn't it? Imagine, as I did when I moved here three years ago--a festival of clams, bringing to mind clam-eating contests and shucking of and perhaps bobbing for clams, and clam races and revelers dressed up like clams, and maybe even an opportunity to actually go clamming, something I have never done but which sounds exotic and so New Englandy. But it's not like that at all. What it really should be called is the All-You-Can-Eat-and-Spend Fried Foods Festival.

Yesterday afternoon, a lovely sunny day that was not too hot but almost, my husband and I did our part for the high school ski team and attended. After all, we are now fully vested Mainers and this is literally the Biggest Event around these parts. Besides the food stands, there are food stands, food stands and food stands. There is also a Funway with carnival rides and games, and an area for artists and crafters selling their wares, some of which were wonderful--we got a handmade lampshade that's a doozy. All of this activity was accompanied by a soundtrack of live music by local musicians playing at various times under big tents. But wait: there's even more food, with free samples offered by purveyors of jellies and jams and salsa and hot sauces and mustards and pickles and relishes and fancy olive oils, all of which can be applied to chips and breads and pretzels and crackers supplied for the dipping into and spreading upon of said condiments.

During our approximately three hours there, I ingested the following: a little paper boat full of fried fish called Haddock Fingers, one of Mitch's fried clams--I hate them but he insisted I try, claiming they were quite good but still I had to spit mine out into a napkin--a large boatload of French fries with salt and ketchup, half a spicy sausage and pepper and mushroom hero, countless corn chips smothered in a variety of the aforementioned dips, a huge chocolate chip cookie and a handful of Bing cherries that were really good but turned our teeth and tongues blue, which sort of ruined them for me, and a large water.

Mitch saw me bite for bite, and raised me on the tasting of hot sauces. By the time we got home we were besotted with carbohydrates and literally passed out, he on the living room sofa and me on the family room sofa. I worried we had food poisoning from the sausage, but that never came to pass. Today I awoke with a feeling of relief that the experience would not be repeated for 364 days.