Rum, chowder, and Otis Redding: could a Saturday afternoon on the waterfront get any better? It was the first of what we hope will be an annual event, Litquake's Words on the Waves, presenting a walkabout of eight readings presented on a cluster of Sausalito houseboats, followed by an open-air concert, cocktails, tasty eats, and tango dancing on the sunny South 40 Pier.

Originally, said Rachel Lehmann-Haupt, a writer and one of the event's organizers, the idea had been to feature food as well as spoken words on each of the eight houseboat sites. After all, we love books and writers here almost as much as we love our sea-salt caramels. But trying to put writers, houseboat owners, and cooks together proved a little too challenging for the event's first time out, and so food and drinks became part of the pierside party after the readings.

Amy Butcher and Hillair Bell serve up Anchor Out cocktails

As the sun danced between teasing ribbons of fog and longtime musician and houseboat dweller Joe Tate strummed his guitar and spun yarns about Otis Redding (yes, "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" was written here), houseboat dwellers Amy Butcher and organizer Hillair Bell squeezed limes into plastic cups of Anchor Out cocktails, created just for the event. Like a mojito without the mint, the drinks had a strong dark-rum base (what else for a crowd of literary pirates?) sweetened with ginger and kaffir-lime syrup, tarted up with lime juice and fizzed with club soda.

Oyster shucking by Martin Reed of I Love Blue Sea

Behind me, landlubbers and pirates alike slurp down Walker Creek oysters from Washington, adroitly shucked by Martin Reed, Captain of I Love Blue Sea, an online fish company for chefs and consumers. A Bay Area local, Reed moved to Arizona to work as a management consultant, and realized that the rest of the country had nothing like the Bay Area's abundance of fresh-off-the-boat, sustainable seafood. So, a little over a year ago, he started I Love Blue Sea, buying his products directly from fishermen and abiding by the guidelines set forth by the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch. Reed's favorite seafood items right now? Besides this batch of briny, ocean-splashed Walker Creeks, he favors Kumamoto and Kusshi oysters, plus local albacore, black cod, and halibut. And not that we're lacking places to get great fish around here, but locals who order online can skip the shipping charges and pick up their fish at Radius Cafe at 7th and Folsom in Soma.

Jay and Emily Kell of Verge Wine Cellars

Prefer wine to rum? Maria Finn, houseboat dweller, author, and Words on the Waves organizer introduced me to Emily and Jay Kell of Verge Wine Cellars, pouring their 2007 Verge Syrah, made from organic grapes sourced in the Dry Creek Valley. Why Verge? Because they look for grapes grown "on the verge," with room for nature to run wild. When it turns out that the Kells hail from Arkansas, where I spent some very enjoyable months living and cooking at the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs, well, we could chat all day about life in the Ozarks. Only the scent of chowder inspired by Melville can lure me away.

Serving up chowder from Davy Jones Deli

And it's good chowder, too, cod and clam, with milk, potatoes, bacon, bay leaves, perhaps even a little chicken stock in among the seafood--altogether more complex that the simple clam-or-cod soup served up by Mrs. Hussey of the Try Pots Tavern in Melville's classic tome, Moby Dick. This one has been made by David Jones of Davy Jones' Deli, a popular sandwich-and-more joint that operates at the back of the Bait Shop, a nearby convenience store. A little over a year ago, Jones convinced the shop's owner to ditch his microwaved hot dogs and Costco potato salad for handmade, colorful sandwiches stacked high with local, organic ingredients. "We're known for our beef brisket, our pulled pork, and our vegan wraps, all with housemade condiments, including our secret-recipe vegan aioli," says Jones. Once a sea and safari cook who taught environmental science on ships, Jones spied a book about Sausalito's houseboats, and, as he puts it, "For the first time I felt geographic envy. I said to myself, there I could be a landlubber.” He and his wife now live in one of the houseboats he once envied, running the deli and catering special events. His day to day clientele? “Gangsters, yoga moms, and the uber-rich, all rolled into one,” he says.

Sounds like a novel right there.

I've had chowder on the brain ever since I attended a rally a couple of weeks ago at which I mistook the crowd's chant of "Louder! Louder!" as-- thanks to people blowing horns into my ears-- "Chowder! Chowder!" I was teased about it by a friend of mine (the proud owner of two hearing aids, no less) who leaned over to me afterward to say, "All this heat and talk of marriage is making me crave a hot, milk-based soup."

Sometimes, we hear what we want to hear.

I've been craving it ever since. Chowder, not marriage, I mean. Popping around the corner to Swan's Oyster Depot is easier said than done, thanks to the usual line several eaters-deep on any given day. And I don't want it from a can-- that's just too single-man-living-alone pathetic. And I'd hate to have anyone find the can in my garbage, because I have a reputation to protect. Since no one has offered me a steaming bowl of the stuff lately, nor is anyone on the horizon likely to, I knew I would have to make it myself.

But what kind?

There are any number of chowders to choose from. New England, Manhattan or Shrimp Chowder from the Gulf Coast? There are chowders made with oysters, with clams, lobster, crab, fish, and even corn. Thin and milky, or thick and creamy? There are as many types of chowder as there are people who make it. No two chowders are the same. There is not one particular recipe that defines the word, no matter what you might hear to the contrary. I have the feeling one could put Rice Krispies in a bowl with some potato, salt pork, and milk, heat it up and still get away with calling it a chowder, however the people of the North Atlantic Coast of this continent might complain.

The word "chowder" is most likely derived from the chaudière, the three-legged pot or cauldron in which it was cooked, in various forms, all along the Atlantic Coast of France in the centuries prior to European colonization of America.. Others might claim that the word is the bastard child of the Old English jowter, or fishmonger. I vote for chaudière, because I am, at heart, a francophile.

Coincidentally, Atlantic Seaboard-residing, pre-Columbian Native Americans made their own form of chowder which the early English colonists were initially hesitant to latch onto, since they seemed as mistrustful of shellfish as they were of just about everything else. Preferring bivalves to starvation, early settlers added their old standbys of ship biscuit and salt pork to the pot. The rest is, I believe, history.

Corn and Clam Chowder with Bacon

Since just about anything is fair game, in terms of chowder-making, I decided to combine two of my favorites, just to see how things went. A lobster chowder sounded wonderful, but too expensive. Crab, which was local, was at about $30.00 per pound. No thank you. I found some lovely Manila clams, which were not exactly local, but neither were they from Manila. The price was good, so I took them home in a little net bag with the thought of steaming them to death in the near future.

I love corn chowders, too, and anything with bacon it. I thought I'd throw all of these things in my own, legless chaudière and see what happened. The results were excellent. Nothing earth- shattering but, then again, I have no plans to change the world by virtue of my chowder-making. Still, I am pleased.

The various amounts of ingredients are approximate, since I was just letting both the creative and clam juices flow. I neglected to write everything down.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 lbs. Manila clams, rinsed clean

1 stalk celery, coarsely chopped

1 medium-sized carrot, likewise chopped

1 yellow onion, peeled and diced.

1 bay leaf

3 stalks of thyme

several black peppercorns

1/4 lb salt pork, diced

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

3/4 pound ( five or six) red or other waxy potatoes, cut into 1/2" cubes

2 cups fresh or canned yellow corn kernels, depending upon the season.

1 cup half and half

pinch of pimenton, or cayenne pepper

4 thick slabs of bacon, diced

salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. In a saucepan large enough to accommodate them, lay the clams in with enough water to cover the bottom of the pan about 1 inch. Steam them until they are dead and have released their juice. Remove any unopened clams and give them a proper burial. Remove clam meat from shells. You may either discard the shells at this point or save them for a future crafts project. Set meat aside.
2. Add four cups cold water to the clam liquid, along with carrots, celery, peppercorns, thyme, and bayleaf. To make even clammier, you may add bottled clam juice to this mix. I did not. Cover and simmer on low heat for 45 minutes to one hour. Strain stock through a fine mesh sieve. Return to the same pot and reduce by half.
3. To the chaudière of your choosing, add bacon and fry slowly, rendering as much of the fat as possible. Do so until pieces are crisp. Remove and drain. To the hot bacon fat, add diced salt pork, and sauté over medium-low heat until likewise crisp. Drain and remove.
4. Add onions and garlic to the hot, double pig fat. Cook over low heat until soft, about 20 minutes.
5. Add onion mixture to the clam stock, along with the potatoes, salt pork, and corn. Simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender. Stir in clams, a pinch of pimenton or cayenne pepper, and half and half. Do not boil, or you will regret it, deeply. Simmer for another 3 to 5 mintues.
6. Ladle into warm bowls and garnish with thyme and crispy bacon which you have not let anyone eat prior to serving. Eat with beer and oyster crackers, unless you have found clam crackers, which I have never in my life heard of. If you have, please send me some.