calling it “Manhattan clam chowder,” though it had nothing to do with Manhattan. Perhaps New Englanders were right about New Yorkers. At the time of America Eats, the two regions were competitive in clam production, but while New England has maintained its beds, Long Island clamming, largely due to pollution, has gone into decline.
The origin of the word chowder is uncertain. By one theory it comes from the archaic French coastal word chaudière, a large pot. Or it might come from a Celtic word, since chowders seem characteristic of the Bretons, Cornish, and Welsh. In Cornwall and Devonshire there was an old word for a fish peddler, a jowter. New England and Atlantic Canadian chowder was originally fishermen’s fare at sea made of what was available from ships’ provisions—salt pork, hardtack, or dried sea biscuits and potatoes. Then a freshly caught fish, usually a cod, was thrown in. Once chowder came to land, clams, not found at sea, sometimes were used instead of fish. The addition of milk did not come until the nineteenth century, about the same time that “chowder parties” emerged. Chowder parties, a craze in the second half of the nineteenth century, were a variation on clambakes in which large groups of family and friends went to the beach with a full retinue of flatware and plates and additional food, and the chowder was made on the beach.
I n his A Key into the Language of America , Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, wrote: “Sickissaug . . . This is a sweet kind of shellfish which all Indians generally over the country, Winter and Summer delight in; and at low water the women dig for them: this fish, and the natural liquor of it, they boil, and it makes their broth, their Nasaump (which is a kind of thickened broth).”
So it was that the Indians made, drank, and enjoyed their “thickened broth.” But not for long. Oh, no! For with the entry of the white men into what is now Rhode Island, this picture of culinary contentment changed. What was good enough for the Indians wasn’t good enough for the followers of Roger Williams, for they—meddlesome and finicky creatures that they must have been—became intent upon improving the “thickened broth.” It is claimed by one school of little known and possibly inaccurate historians that the tribes became so wrought up over the shameful attempt of the Rhode Island white men to improve upon “thickened broth” that they—led by a sympathetic chieftain from the Massachusetts sector—broke out in open revolt. Hence, King Philip’s War, from the Indian chief of the same name.
Now if these same white men had had an inkling of the furor that was to follow, an argument destined to become ageless, they possibly wouldn’t have bothered to improve the primary Indian dish. They’d have forgotten all about chowder, and said: “O.K. So it’s ‘thickened broth.’ ”
All of which points to the main issue: Whether or not to use tomatoes in place of milk. It is also possible to raise a good rip-roaring argument on the subject of clams versus quahogs, likewise on the use of salt pork and onions.
Governor Winslow, of the Plymouth Colony, is said to have imported cows as early as 1624 (there were no cows on the Mayflower —just goats; cow fodder would have taken up the all-important space needed for antiques). A cow in a canoe—it is claimed—is an unhandy thing, so there is serious doubt that Roger Williams had one with him when he landed upon Rhode Island soil. However, at a slightly later date, there were plenty of cows within a few miles of the new colony, and no doubt some of them were brought to Providence. Thus we see the possibility—but no proof—that Rhode Island clam chowder had milk added to it as early as the second half of the seventeenth century.
How to dispose of the Tomato Challenge: Rhode Island clam chowder contained no tomatoes until about 200 years after the founding of the state in 1636. This is a reasonable statement
The origin of the word chowder is uncertain. By one theory it comes from the archaic French coastal word chaudière, a large pot. Or it might come from a Celtic word, since chowders seem characteristic of the Bretons, Cornish, and Welsh. In Cornwall and Devonshire there was an old word for a fish peddler, a jowter. New England and Atlantic Canadian chowder was originally fishermen’s fare at sea made of what was available from ships’ provisions—salt pork, hardtack, or dried sea biscuits and potatoes. Then a freshly caught fish, usually a cod, was thrown in. Once chowder came to land, clams, not found at sea, sometimes were used instead of fish. The addition of milk did not come until the nineteenth century, about the same time that “chowder parties” emerged. Chowder parties, a craze in the second half of the nineteenth century, were a variation on clambakes in which large groups of family and friends went to the beach with a full retinue of flatware and plates and additional food, and the chowder was made on the beach.
I n his A Key into the Language of America , Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, wrote: “Sickissaug . . . This is a sweet kind of shellfish which all Indians generally over the country, Winter and Summer delight in; and at low water the women dig for them: this fish, and the natural liquor of it, they boil, and it makes their broth, their Nasaump (which is a kind of thickened broth).”
So it was that the Indians made, drank, and enjoyed their “thickened broth.” But not for long. Oh, no! For with the entry of the white men into what is now Rhode Island, this picture of culinary contentment changed. What was good enough for the Indians wasn’t good enough for the followers of Roger Williams, for they—meddlesome and finicky creatures that they must have been—became intent upon improving the “thickened broth.” It is claimed by one school of little known and possibly inaccurate historians that the tribes became so wrought up over the shameful attempt of the Rhode Island white men to improve upon “thickened broth” that they—led by a sympathetic chieftain from the Massachusetts sector—broke out in open revolt. Hence, King Philip’s War, from the Indian chief of the same name.
Now if these same white men had had an inkling of the furor that was to follow, an argument destined to become ageless, they possibly wouldn’t have bothered to improve the primary Indian dish. They’d have forgotten all about chowder, and said: “O.K. So it’s ‘thickened broth.’ ”
All of which points to the main issue: Whether or not to use tomatoes in place of milk. It is also possible to raise a good rip-roaring argument on the subject of clams versus quahogs, likewise on the use of salt pork and onions.
Governor Winslow, of the Plymouth Colony, is said to have imported cows as early as 1624 (there were no cows on the Mayflower —just goats; cow fodder would have taken up the all-important space needed for antiques). A cow in a canoe—it is claimed—is an unhandy thing, so there is serious doubt that Roger Williams had one with him when he landed upon Rhode Island soil. However, at a slightly later date, there were plenty of cows within a few miles of the new colony, and no doubt some of them were brought to Providence. Thus we see the possibility—but no proof—that Rhode Island clam chowder had milk added to it as early as the second half of the seventeenth century.
How to dispose of the Tomato Challenge: Rhode Island clam chowder contained no tomatoes until about 200 years after the founding of the state in 1636. This is a reasonable statement
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