That’s right, we went to the Newport Clam Chowder Cook-Off yesterday with some friends. It was 80° and clear. A beautiful day to eat copious amounts of hot fatty chowder.
There were, of course, interesting things to see (people, mainly).
The best part of going to any of these summer festivals is the people watching. But there are some noteworthy sites to see, as well:
The best seafood chowder we tasted was from a local favorite of ours: The Smokehouse Café. The best chowder in all categories, though, was from some place in San Francisco, which means I’ll probably never get to eat it again, because the chances that I’ll get to San Francisco some day and say to myself, ‘Oh, look, isn’t that the restaurant that had the really good clam chowder?’ are pretty slim. Even if I remembered the name (I’ve already forgotten it), they’d probably change chefs or update the recipe.
There’s something to be said for living in the moment.
Sean didn’t get any chowder. He mainly slept. Maybe next year, buddy.
Although I was looking forward to seeing him try some, we couldn’t get Theo into any chowder.
Probably didn’t help that the surface of the sun had relocated to downtown Newport — by the time we saw you I was starting to worry about him. Plus I was having an “uncomfortable around crowds” day and never got into the routine of throwing elbows and stepping on feet necessary to get the soup.
But we’ve been to four of them now, and it’s my favorite day of the year here no matter the weather. If you ever get me to come back as a tourist, it will either be for Christmas or Chowdah.