Old friends and wedding parties and extended families have a way of creating memorable meals. Place them all in a gorgeous locale overflowing with fresh ingredients -- say the San Juan Islands on the Puget Sound during the last weeks of summer -- and even the simplest pot of soup becomes sublime.

We were gathered on the northern shore of Guemes Island. A single ferry connects locals to the mainland, and the island's one store -- Anderson's General Store -- assures shoppers that: "If we don't have it, we'll explain how you can get along without it." Guemes is a place where feeling the tides is a sixth sense, where the ebb and flow of water determines the success of work and the ease of play. Instead of a farmers market, there's a produce swap on Sunday mornings. The island's highest speed limit is 25 mph, and even at that, you could cross it from tip to tip in 10 leisurely minutes.

Everyone who lives along the shore has a boat and a couple of crab traps. Lone buoys out on the water sport duct tape with names and phone numbers. I tried throwing out a couple of the traps to catch our dinner. Having written about the crab industry, I wasn't expecting it to be easy. But let's just say that if I had to catch my own food -- let alone make a living -- with a row boat and two heavy traps, I'd be a heck of a lot skinnier than I am now.

Fortunately for us, a neighbor across the Sound stopped by and left a deep, wide bucket filled with freshly dug clams and sea water. It was waiting quietly on the beach for us. I tried to count, but stopped at 140.

The bride's mother chipped in tomatoes from her garden. The groom's father offered fresh corn; the cobs and some salmon trimmings would make a rich, sweet stock. There were bottles of wine leftover from the wedding. Butter and garlic, fortunately, always magically appear in the company of food-lovers. A loaf of bread from the wedding reception was a bit stale, making it perfect for croutons, and our cabin offered up the last requirement: a big pot generous enough to hold all the food.

No crabs, unfortunately. But where nature taketh away, she always giveth in return.

Neighborly Clams with White Wedding Wine

Soak freshly-dug clams in cornmeal for a couple of hours to help them purge all their grit. Scrub and rinse them well.

Cut off the kernels from whole corn (reserve them for making creamed corn or, even better, salmon and corn chowder for lunch the next day). If you have a sharp knife, cut the corn cobs in half or quarters. If you don't, ask one of the stronger wedding guests to break them in two. Boil them in a pot of water with any trimmings you may have: carrot, onion, celery, or just some salmon skin and belly flaps. Strain and reserve the broth.

Now the fun part: Melt some butter in a big pot. Add chopped onion and garlic and the precious last carrot; saute over a medium flame until softened. Stir in chopped tomatoes and as much of their juices as you can catch, stir a few times, and then pour in a quarter to a whole bottle of wine. Add that corn and salmon broth that you made earlier. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes to meld together all the flavors and emulsify the butter. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Bring the broth back to a full boil. Add the clams and cover tightly. In about 10 minutes, give the clams a good stir and check for doneness. If you have a big batch, you'll probably need to continue cooking for another 5 to 10 minutes. If you like your clams on the rare side, take them out just as soon as they've all opened fully.

Bring the pot to the table along with all the bowls you can find in the cabin. Pass around toasted stale bread, more bottles of wine and stories of younger, greener days.

My first summer in San Francisco, I bought a little Weber and installed it on my fire escape. Within two minutes of lighting its inaugural pile of charcoal, I answered my doorbell to find an irate neighbor pointing at the flames and reminding me that all the houses in our neighborhood were constructed of wood. My poor Smokey Joe was instantly retired. Since then, I've explored various safer ways to char my food and finally, after quite a few years, settled on a system that actually works.After dismissing stovetop options, such as grill pans and an aluminum rack on legs that I dug up in the back aisle of Soko Hardware, I finally cobbled together a simple setup.

I had a gas stove from the 80s with a broiler drawer at the bottom. (It was pristine the first time I opened it; the previous inhabitants hadn't used it once!) Unfortunately, I could never get enough heat to sear and finish food with that unique texture and flavor that comes from the direct heat of a hot, dry flame. Everything steamed and soaked in its own juices, and my food always left a mess that was a pain to scrub away.

Two things changed that:

1) Replacing the wimpy grill pan that came with the stove. I bought the biggest, heaviest searing grill that I could find. The ones that stretch across two burners and have a grease well are perfect. I splurged on a Dacor searing grill, but there are plenty others that will work.

2) Following Linda Carucci's advice and keeping the door of the broiler open an inch or so. This helps the steam escape to maintain dry heat.

As you can see from the photo, even whole fish grills up crisp and clean. It's essential to preheat the searing grill until smoking hot. The first few times you use it, be sure to brush it lightly with peanut or grapeseed oil (you'll need the high-smoke point!). As the grill becomes seasoned though, the oil in the marinades and moist rubs is enough to lift food off easily. I can now confidently follow summer recipes throughout the year while keeping my fire escape free of flames.

For the other half of grilling fish in the city, here's a quick primer on buying the freshest fish possible...

FINDING A FISHMONGER

Visit a quality fishmonger. New May Wah on Clement and 8th Ave, Bryan's on California St., Shogun Fish at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, Berkeley Bowl, 99 Ranch and Whole Foods are a few of the places I'd recommend, but the best thing to do is look for a good store near you and then cultivate a relationship with the folks behind the counter.

Ask friendly questions, such as their advice about the freshest fish of the day, how it was caught and how they like to prepare it. After a few visits, you'll figure out if they know what they're talking about. Best of all, you'll become one of those favorite regulars who receive the best of the counter. Any quality vendor appreciates curious customers who are looking for good products. (Be prepared for brusque service at the Asian fish counters, though. I hate to admit it, but customer service isn't their forte. Super-fresh fish for the fearless, on the other hand, they have covered.)

When you walk into a new place, look for lots of ice for the whole fish and metal trays for the fillets and steaks. Needless to say, you should immediately leave any place that smells of rotten fish. A wall of tanks filled with lively fish swimming in clear, bubbling water is at the top of my own list, since I often point at the exact fish I want netted. Little signs that indicate origin and the method of catching are helpful for those who are trying to eat within a sustainable seafood system.

SELECTING FISH

On whole fish, don't be afraid to lift the gills to check for red blood. Avoid any fish with dry, browned gills. Then press your forefinger into the thickest part of the fish's flank to watch its flesh spring back out, quick and firm. Wet, moist tail and fins are good; dry, brittle ones are bad. Clear, shiny, rounded eyes are another good indicator of fresh fish, although sometimes the ice can damage them, so it shouldn't be the only thing on your list. Sniff for an odor of ocean. It's okay to get a noseful of "pier perfume," but there should be no hint of decay or any strong "fishiness" that reveals too many days out of the water.

If you're buying fillets, the touch and smell tests are the best. Even cut flesh will spring back. You shouldn't be able to see a depression where your finger was. The longer your fingerprint lingers, the older the fish. Sliminess is another sure sign that you should move on to the next fish or choose chicken for dinner. Whole fish will have a natural shine and slipperiness -- the scales dull and loosen as the fish ages out of water -- but cut flesh should not feel slick.

If the fish is protected behind glass cases, I make a point of asking the person helping me to poke the fish for me or to bring it out so I can perform my own touch and sniff tests. No, I don't mind people behind me sighing, rolling their eyes or muttering under their breaths.

Sometimes, though, the best fish is in the freezer. A fish that's expertly frozen within hours of leaving its watery home is much, much better in quality than a so-called fresh fish that's taken almost a week to get from boat to market.

After going through all that trouble tracking down and identifying a good fish, don't bother waiting a couple of days to cook it. Plan on buying, cooking and eating your fish the same day or, at the most, within a day of finding it.

PREPARING WHOLE FISH FOR THE GRILL OR BROILER

Here are some tips for handling whole fish:

If you're not comfortable gutting and scaling a whole fish (that's another whole entry in itself...) then make it easy on yourself and ask the fishmonger to clean the fish for you. What you want is simply a dressed fish: gutted and scaled but with its head, fins and tail intact.

Get back home quickly, or plan to bring a cooler or insulated bag with you. I often ask the fishmonger to put the fish, after weighing it, into another bag with some ice. No market has ever refused to do this, and they may have a ice pack or two that they're happy to pass along.

When you unwrap the fish in your own kitchen, take care with the tail and fins. They sometimes have sharp ends that can poke or cut your hand.

With any fish that's more than two inches thick, cut three slits at an angle into each side of the fish to allow the heat to penetrate to the center. I like to fill the belly cavity with aromatics -- say scallions and lemon slices or big handfuls of fennel fronds -- in order to maintain its rounded shape at the table. A few toothpicks soaked in water will keep the belly flaps together.

Here's an old trick for creating a "nonstick" grill rack: Cut a big, starchy potato in half. Stick the potato halves onto a big fork. Be sure the grill rack is clean and free of burnt food remains. Once the preheated grill rack is hot, rub it well with the cut side of the potato halves. The instantly seared layer of starch will create a surface which will release the fish more readily, especially if you have a brand-new, shiny grill.

For every inch of thickness, allow ten minutes to cook the fish. It will vary slightly either way, but this is a good baseline for figuring out cooking times. Once the fish flakes easily close to the bone, it's ready for eating. I prefer undercooking to any amount of overcooking, but you should cook the fish to the point that you enjoy. With the variation in size and species, the best way to test for flake is with the tip of a paring knife.

Use two wide spatulas to roll the fish gently when it's ready to turn. Be sure there are enough hot coals beneath the area where the second side will cook. Brush the fish lightly with oil before turning it.

Wrapping a fish in soaked banana leaves will make the fish easier to turn and remove. You'll lose that nice char but will gain a wonderful smoky flavor while retaining lots of moisture. Plan for a longer cooking time.

If you have a pizza peel or one of those thin cookie sheets, especially one with a tapered edge, then you can scoop up the whole fish with little effort. Otherwise, use those two wide spatulas and have the platter as close to the fish as possible.

SPICY GINGER-LEMONGRASS RUB

This is a recipe that I've adapted from my uncles in Vietnam. Whenever I visited, they'd chop down a young banana tree to create an impromptu grill. Two logs of the juicy trunk supported split bamboo skewers, and everything from the family chicken to sweet field mice ended up coated with this spicy, savory rub.

I have an Indian-style mixie which makes it a lot easier to blend the hard lemongrass with minimal liquid. If you have a regular blender, plan on chopping the ingredients more finely and then adding a bit more oil and/or wine to help the blades do their thing.

Chop roughly:
A big knob of ginger, peeled
The pale half of 4 stalks of lemon grass
3 large cloves of moist, plump garlic
2-4 red Thai chiles, seeded or not as you wish
A small knob of fresh turmeric (or a half teaspoon of powdered turmeric)

Have ready 3-4 tablespoons each:
Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
Vegetable oil

Combine the aromatic, dry ingredients in the jar of a blender. Drizzle in 2 tablespoons of the rice wine and oil. Blend to a smooth paste, adding more liquid and scraping down as needed. Rub evenly onto fish, chicken, beef, pork or pressed tofu. Cover and let marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Grill or broil the meat or tofu with high, direct heat, brushing lightly with additional oil.

Not long ago I had dinner at a place that specialized in fish. But oddly enough, there wasn't that much fish on the menu. Weird Fish in the Mission is committed to serving "sustainable" fish and that limits what's on offer. Catfish and tilapia are mainstays. But sustainability isn't the only issue. While we tend to think of eating fish as healthy, concerns about PCB's and mercury have also made choosing fish more challenging.

There couldn't be a better man to set us straight about fish than Paul Johnson, a former chef and advisor to the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch Program, he is best known for having founded the Monterey Fish Market. He has supplied fish to local chefs and restaurateurs including Thomas Keller, Alice Waters, Michael Mina, Traci Des Jardin, etc.

Fish Forever has almost 100 recipes, but also describes each fish in detail, how they are fished, their health benefits and how to find the best sustainable options. It's written in a wonderfully clear and engaging manner by someone who is absolutely passionate about the subject. I was thrilled to see sardine recipes, tips for how to make tilapia more tasty, a recipe for albacore confit, and clear instructions for how to prepare every fish for cooking. Consider it a bible for anyone who eats fish.

Sand Dabs with Fried Capers, Parsley and Lemon
Serves 4 as a main dish

1/4 cup mild olive oil
2 Tablespoons capers, rinsed, drained and patted dry
8 pan-ready sand dabs
Seasoned flour: 1/4 cup all-purpose flour mixed with 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, and 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup dry white wine
Juice of 1 lemon
2 Tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 Tablespoon cold unsalted butter, cut into bits

1. In a large cast-iron skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat until it shimmers.
2. Add the capers and fry until slightly crispy and a shade darker, about 1 minute. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels to drain.
3. Dredge the sand dabs in the seasoned flour and carefully add them to the hot pan. Cook for 3 or 4 minutes on each side or until golden brown. Transfer to a plate and keep warm.
4. Pour off any oil remaining in the pan. Add the white wine and lemon juice, stirring to scrap up the browned bits form the bottom of the pan. Cook to reduce the liquid by two thirds. Turn off the heat and add the parsley. Whisk in the cold butter, a bit at a time, until the pan juices become silky and thick. Pour the sauce oven the sand dabs and garnish with the fried capers.

Reprinted by permission from Fish Forever, by Paul Johnson. Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Copyright © 2007 by Paul Johnson. All rights reserved.

Nothing evokes special occasions like a lobster with drawn butter, but there was once a time when they were considered poverty fare. Fed to orphans, prisoners and indentured servants, lobsters from the Northern Atlantic did not appeal to early colonists.

It took the canning craze of the 1950s to spread the taste of lobster beyond New England, and since then, the red, beady-eyed crustaceans appear on casino buffets and surf-and-turf menus in every state. There's debate now about whether the lobster industry is the best it's ever been or on the verge of collapse, but Maine lobstermen are working closely with marine biologists to develop sustainable practices. It's the older, more labor-intensive, back-breaking ways of early lobstering that will save the industry.

Working on a lobster boat for one hour -- let alone one day -- will silence anyone who complains about the price of lobster.

Lobster Lingo

For those who weren't raised along the coast of Maine, here's a quick primer on lobsters:

Berries - Lobster eggs. Conscientious, law-abiding lobstermen will gently return a berried female back to the water after V-notching her tail, indicating to others that she's a valuable resource. Her 10,000 or so eggs, carried on the outside of her shell, will be released after 9 or 10 months, and of these, about 10 of them will survive. That's 1/10 of 1 percent who even have a whiff of a chance of reaching maturity.

Bugs - Newly hatched lobster larvae. More generally, an affectionate term for all lobsters, as in "Come ovah for dinner tonight for some boiled bugs."

Chicken - A one-pound lobster. It can take as long as 7 years in the cold waters of the northern Atlantic to grow to this size.

Hen - A female lobster.

Cock - A male lobster.

Snappers - Young lobsters, for their tendency to flick their tails frequently

Pistol - A lobster without claws. During molting or fighting, they may lose one or both, but will regenerate them with time.

Pot - A lobster trap, especially in great Britain. Though now more commonly made of easy-to-maintain plastic rather than wood, it still attracts lobsters through a one-way entrance. Famously inefficient, they often allow lobsters to walk away after eating. With a stoic shrug of their shoulders, lobstermen accept this as a facet of Maine's de facto aquaculture, allowing younger ones to feed, escape and breed. In the photo (from Casco Bay) you can see the low-tech bricks that weigh the traps down in the water.

Kitchen - The first chamber of a lobster trap, where the bug goes to eat.

Parlor - The inner chamber of a lobster trap. Also known as the bedroom, this is where the bug awaits the lobsterman.

Lobster cars - Crates that are kept buoyed and locked just off-shore to store trapped lobsters until they go to market.

Ghost fishing When lost nets, loose traps or fragments of other broken equipment continue to catch and kill marine life. Modern traps have escape vents constructed from biodegradable materials to allow lobsters to escape from lost traps.

Keepers Lobsters that measure between 3.25 and 5 inches from their eye sockets to the tip of their tails, the legal limits for market.

Shorts - Lobsters that fall below the legal size.

Shedder - A newly molted lobster. It has absorbed sea water into its body, and there's extra space in its soft shell. If you've ever received a gush of water when cracking open a lobster, you probably have a shedder on your plate.

Crusher - The larger, stronger claw with courser teeth. If the lobster's right claw is the crusher, it's called a "right-handed" lobster.

Ripper - The smaller claw, which has finer teeth for cutting and tearing.

"From away" - People like me who are not from Maine. Summer tourists. Well-meaning travelers and diners who triple town populations and clog up Highway 1 in search of lobster.

Where to eat lobster in the Bay Area

In November of 1920, The Manufacturer and the Builder--"A monthly journal devoted to the Advancement and Diffusement of Practical Knowledge"--reported that California received its first shipment of live lobsters from the East Coast. Layered in a crate with moist rock weed and then packed inside another, ice-lined crate, a little over half of the 600 lobsters survived the voyage.

While overnight planes have sped up the trip considerably in this century, finding a good lobster isn't as easy as you'd think. For the most part, New Englanders stranded in Northern California simply waited between visits back east to enjoy fresh, plain crustaceans, free of wasabi-panko crust or truffle oil or even chipotle butter.

For those who'd like a taste without boarding a plane, there's at least one place you can nurse your bug cravings. It's not quite the same as your favorite shack in Harpswell or Thomaston, but Old Port Lobster Shack in Redwood City boasts the closest thing to Down East eating in these parts. They have sister restaurants in North Beach and Napa, but it's the South Bay kitchen that serves up the better bugs.

A bell near the register let's the kitchen know when to throw a lobster into the pot. Behind it you can see some of the draft beers from both the east and west coasts you can try: Sea Dog, Allagash, Old Thumper, Anchor Steam, Dead Guy, and Widmer Brothers.

While the sides are not particularly noteworthy (even the dried blueberries in the cole slaw weren't really that great) the OPLS serves lobsters whole and uncracked in all their glory. You could order the lazy version, but why?

The true find are the lobster rolls, which come with the right bread (baked specially soft for the restaurant) and are packed full of handpicked meat. The "naked" version is the purist's choice; a tiny bit of melted butter and mayo arrive on the side.

Old Port Lobster Shack

Redwood City
851 Veterans Blvd
Redwood City, CA 94061
(650) 366-2400

Napa Valley
806 Fourth Street

Napa, CA 94559
(707) 258.8200

North Beach
532 Green St
San Francisco, CA 94133
(415) 829-3634