DISH
Choosin' Chowda
with Maribeth Maloney
My first chowder contest. I know, shame on me, but that long line has made it seem rather unappetizing in the past. There's also the fact that I'm more of a Cioppino champion than a cream-based chowda head by order of my gallbladder. I figure the odds of finding anything red simmering at the competition are about as great as a snowball's chance in heck, but I'm ready to see what it's all about. However, I need a little perspective to gear up for Nantucket's tribute to the classic New England meal in a bowl. ...

There's much speculation about whether it was the French, the English, French settlers in Canada or English settlers in Massachusetts who were the first to cook the original chowders. It is largely agreed, though, that it was fishermen in the early 1700s that created the dish, necessity being the mother of invention. The standard food staples aboard fishing vessels at the time were salt pork, hardtack-also known as "ship's biscuit," an unleavened brick of baked flour-and fish.

The oldest printed recipe for chowder appeared in a 1751 edition of the Boston Evening Post and reflected the traditional method of layering the ingredients, which consisted only of onions, salt pork, hardtack, seasonings, water and codfish. Potatoes, clams, milk and cream didn't make it into pots for another century, the same time that tomatoes began being added. The anti tomato-in-chowder movement had yet to take hold, as evidenced by an 1851 Boston recipe in The American Matron which, remarkably, included the addition of both milk and tomatoes.

By the beginning of the 20th century, chowder had become well-established as part of American culture and cuisine, but more as a style of cooking rather than as a dish with specific elements. It was the variation of favored ingredients that transformed chowder's humble origins into regional rivalries, some downright feverish.

As it stands today, along the Pacific coast, the Chesapeake Bay and in Louisiana, almost anything goes given that chowders are just one of many different types of popular seafood stews. The same could be said of Rhode Island, the Switzerland of states, where the tureen might feature either cream or tomato-based soups as easily as the local specialty, "clear chowder." Then there's the white vs. red opposition between northern New England and New York: any tomato fool enough to be caught on upper I-95 fraternizing with a clam stands in certain peril of getting the pulp knocked out of him.

I arrive at the Grand Union parking lot where the line is wrapped around the corner. Happily, I spot a friend right away since I need a stand-in for my gallbladder. She's accompanied by her mother; the two will serve as my tasters. We're handed a list of the 12 participants: A.K. Diamond's, Arno's at 41 Main Street, Atlantic Café, Bartlett's Farm, Boarding House, The Brotherhood, Cap'n Tobey's, Provisions, Rose & Crown, Schooner's, Seagrille and 29 Fair. With that, we're off.

It's a powerful start, with A.K.'s pronouncing bacon, dill and thyme as the flavor base for their clam chowder which is so thick and creamy that the ladle could stand up in the pot unaccompanied by a hand. The Tasters dig into their plastic cups and gleefully report that the potatoes and celery are nearly al dente, with the satisfying crunch of freshness. Next is Arno's, boasting a smoked apple bacon roux and love as their secrets. Unfortunately, the tasters don't feel the love; they both want a shot of Tabasco.

Love continues as the theme at Atlantic Café, with the table being manned by two turban-wearing glamazons. Chef Dante steps forward to say his rendition gets down to basics and contains no bacon, but lots of freshlyground pepper. The Tasters have no comment; they keep looking longingly back at A.K.'s pot. Just the same, I nominate the A.C. as Best Dressed.

Suddenly, I feel my eyes are deceiving me: Is that really something red being ladled from the Provisions pot? Indeed it is. Beth English's offering is a seafood-free Portuguese chowder of tomatoes, potatoes, linguica and white beans. While the Tasters like it, I worry that they and the other voters are unwilling to award originality.

Regardless, it's a bold move.

From the next table, all I can hear is "What's that?" repeated over and over, to which the response (repeated over and over) is "Peppered Cranberry Puree." I'm sure Chef John from Cap'n Tobey's will be mumbling that in his sleep for a while. I suppose that's what you get when you drizzle a red liquid from a squeeze bottle. The Tasters enjoyed the chunky vegetables but couldn't find the clams. They suggest it as a nice sauce for chicken croquettes.

E.J. Harvey is still in his waders, having dug up the clams for the Seagrille's rendition in the morning. The Tasters like it a lot and declare it the "most clammy," but still hang tough for A.K.'s. We move on to the Boarding House where Chef Erin's chowder features Metompkin Bay oysters and applewood-smoked bacon with parsley, scallions and chives. The Tasters are delighted with the meatiness of the oysters which they report are "done just right." The Brotherhood's offering, described by Don, the manager, as "creamy, dreamy and chunky" stands on its own with the word "clammy" coming up again, but without heightened elation.

As we approach the Rose & Crown, we hear speculation that booze is the secret ingredient. Chef Jeff is all mum, saying only, "We work in a pub." The Tasters enjoy the depth of flavor the "secret" provides, but still haven't budged from pot number one.

At the final table, 29 Fair, there's both a bottle of complimentary hand sanitizer and the winner of the congeniality contest-Chef Charles, who reports having left France because there were "too many French people." He declares himself sans secrets and rapidfires off his recipe: applewood-smoked bacon, a "2-2-1" dose of celery, onions

and carrots, three gallons each of clams and their juice, fingerling potatoes, thyme and cream. The Tasters praise the fresh flavor, and the fact that the potatoes have the skins on, as Charles randomly offers that he's "28, single, and a liar."

We're out of tables and ladles, but something's missing; namely, Bartlett's and Schooner's. I bid adieu to my Tasters, who need to go home and explode, and approach Tracy from the Chamber about the no-shows. Unfortunately, with the competition almost over, neither has called yet to cancel.

As other bloated tasters meander about counting their stacks of plastic cups and wondering why they're coming up two shy of twelve, I decide to hang near Stacey, the gal collecting verbal votes. There's a surprising number of children, most of whom pick A.K.'s, and a large number of day-trippers who proudly announce they've traveled all the way from Hyannis, as if it were a foreign country. I've never seen so many older men with baseball caps under a tent, one of whom, Fred, gets into my face and asks what I'm doing. When I tell him, he comes back with not only his vote for 29 Fair but an unsolicited comment, "I like the paper, it keeps 'the other one' honest." As I digest that, an elderly woman with a beard and a nasty lisp nearly stumbles over me in her search for Bartlett's and Schooner's; Tracy informs her it was only a 10-cup challenge.

The contest is declared "Ova!" A record 663 voters have slurped their way through and the winners are announced: A.K.'s, followed by Seagrille and 29 Fair. I'm gratified to say the least. Not only were my Tasters spot on, but my gallbladder's still in tact.

I CHOWDAWAFA'S

A tasty little chowda partna-
+ 1 stick of butter, softened
+ 1 cup grated cheddar cheese
+ 1/2   teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
+ 2 drops Tabasco
+ 1/4 teaspoon salt
+ 1 cup all-purpose flour

Combine butter and cheese in a bowl; stir in Worcestershire, Tabasco and salt. Add flour and mix well. Divide dough in half and roll into logs, about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap in plastic and chill several hours.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cut dough into 3/8 inch slices and place 2 inches apart on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake until golden, approximately 10 minutes. Makes 24 wafers.