As an almost-lifelong Rhode Islander (I was born in Delaware, so I have strong small state cred), there are a few things that you have to do least once to prove your state loyalty: enjoy a Del’s lemonade via the slurp and squeeze method, make a proper stuffy (a.k.a., a stuffed clam), and complain about potholes.
But there’s another, lesser done bucket list item: The Rhode Island Clambake. So, in an effort to prove my Rhode Island-ness, I gave it a go.
Turns out a traditional Rhode Island clambake is a labor of love. Gone are appliances, pots and pans, and even the shelter of your own home. Instead, I found myself digging a hole on a remote beach with only my partner, his family, and a few cormorants for company.