“Often these days I remember my childhood. Sometimes it is just the aroma of some of food cooking that triggers it off. For some reason I was thinking about New England clam chowder. I remember when times were tight, we would go down to the seashore to get something for a meal. Sometimes a family friend would give us a cod or haddock to make it through the week. My mother would make New England clam chowder with the clams we would find. A few homemade sinkers and a hot bowl of chowder was not just a meal but a celebration. Somehow the topics of cholesterol and calories were seldom brought up,” writes Norman Snowden of Gloucester.

He loves to remember his days of living and growing up in the state of Maine, the easternmost of our 48 contiguous states.

“When we were kids,” Norman says, “we would watch as my dad would sometimes do the cooking. He would like to be complimented so he would only use ingredients that would enhance the taste. Breakfast consisted of slab bacon, eggs and potatoes floating in the bacon grease, usually with a side order of toast smeared with real butter and salted. My father had a heart attack at 32 years of age. He tried to regiment himself in food and tobacco but later slipped back to the old ways. He died at 48 years of age.”

Norman also recalls the time he made beef stew and the neighborhood ate it all before his wife had a chance to even taste it. “Shortly after we had moved into our new home, we discovered how our budget was being squeezed. My wife, who is a great cook, said we had one piece of beef to last to payday and asked me to go up to the clubhouse and make a pot of beef stew. One thing led to another and I shared our beef stew with everyone there,” he said.

“I have to admit that I am a helpless foodie. This is a trait that runs in my family. Our fondest form of recreation is going to a restaurant. But each member of the family has their special culinary creation they are famous for. Eating will probably be my downfall although I have tried to downsize. The doctors all claim that I need to stop eating (too much) and if I do not cut back, I may be leaving here soon. My epitaph could read: ‘He dug his grave with his own fork and spoon.’”

Norman says his route to Virginia started in 1966 while in the Army stationed at Fort Eustis. One day he visited a friend, Jon Beck, in Bena. It was here he met Beck’s in-laws, the Jenkinses, who introduced him to Southern hospitality and cooking. Later when he retired Norman made Gloucester his home.

Since retirement, “about 20 years ago,” Norman has been writing poems about his early life and his family‘s cooking and posting them on Facebook. His recipes are presented to our readers in verse.

MY DAD’S SCALLOP STEW
Everyone who used to live by us there in Maine,
Would compliment my father on this scallop stew.
When it did come down to what was going into it,
Father had but certain ingredients that would do.

He would use only the select tenderest scallops,
Cooking these low upon a kettle’s boiling steam.
He’d add in the huge hunk of homemade butter,
As he did insist upon using only the real cream.

He would use those big pieces of a salt pork fat,
Frying them up all crispy in Mom’s black iron pan.
…He did peel up one dozen Kennebeck potatoes,
And he carefully diced each one up one by one.

Then he would drop them down in that stew pot,
Cooking the spuds up until all tender and done.
Then it was the time to add the salt and pepper,
He would have to sip some of that broth to test.

…I have to admit this scallop stew was rather rich,
And that broth was just as smooth like spun silk.
Maybe it was that quart of cream he would add,
And those three cans of the rich Carnation milk.

It had a layer of golden skim floating on the top…

STEW BEEF
My wife told me, Dear, I have the great idea,
Now I thought this thing that you might do.
Instead of just lying around upon the couch
Go up to the clubhouse and fix a beef stew.

Dear, that is what I shall do.
I grabbed all the veggies and the stew beef,
…I’d chop all the stew beef into little pieces,
Just the right size to put into the stew to eat.

Filled that big aluminum pot up with water,
And then turned on the stove knob for heat.
I would bring everything up to a rapid boil,
Then slowly I would turn on down the heat.

You could smell that aroma of a beef stew,
Now soon it’d be done and be ready to eat!
Pretty soon there was a dozen red-faced kids,
Who would come busting into my front door.

…One said, something sure smells good in here,
I said, “Boys, get you a bowl of hot beef stew,
And go warm up there in front of the big T.V.
We’re sitting back in front of that television
Enjoying the delicious bowl of hot beef stew.

…And behold my little wife walked on through!
She said, I’ve come in here for the beef stew,
I said, it’s right on the stove there in the rear.
As she saw that aluminum pot was now gone,
She said a few words a child shouldn’t hear!

NEW ENGLAND CLAM CHOWDER
That was a frigid winter day on Deer Isle
…Dad said, I’m going to dig us some clams
…We would cautiously walk across icy rocks,
Turning over the ice floes with our clam hoe.

The holes made by the clams would appear,
Hidden by that seaweed down there below.
We would manage to dig about half a basket
…We’d take them home to wash and to shuck,
And my mother would put them in the stew.

Dad would stop by at Prescott Eaton’s store,
And got him some Carnation milk in the can.
He also bought us the small piece of salt pork,
For my mother to brown up in her frying pan.

Mom sliced and added in the white potatoes,
Also the cut browned pork scraps to the pot.
She drop in the dab of margarine and an onion,
And then all of the clams we’d just brought.

When those potatoes would stick so tender,
She would pour in the can of Carnation milk,
Adding her pinch of salt and pepper to taste,
And cook chowder till it was smooth as silk!

…I confess it was your seafood lover’s delight.