Thank goodness that my parents love to have a clamboil for any old holiday. We have had clamboil for our dinner for every holiday under the sun including Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter and yesterday for Father's Day.
I remember clamboils from way back when I was a wee lad and we camped in Westport, MA. Back in those days the clamboil would be tended by my grandfather and cooked over an open fire pit in the largest pot imaginable. Some of those summer boils would feed over 20 people. But even when we stopped camping the legacy of the clamboil remained intact. And thank goodness for that. I certainly smile on the inside when I know that everyone else is having ham on Easter and I am going to see my parents for a kick ass clamboil.
I would say that in my early teens the baton was passed from my grandfather to my father and mother. These days my father washes the clams because sandy clams can ruin a good boil and my mother bags and stacks the ingredients and tends the pot.
Yesterday's clamboil certainly hit the spot and I was given enough leftovers to have a huge portion for dinner this evening. The rest of Father's Day was spent being Dad's gopher in the garage while he change the fuel pump in the GTO, watching the Sox and then watching half of the final round of the US Open before heading back to Worcester and finishing off the evening with two big slabs of sweet bread!