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No
corporate cardboard-like "clam strips" here; along the Connecticut
shore we expect our clams to be fresh-off-the-boat and whole. Whether they're
served fried at Jimmies of Savin Rock, or placed as the crowning touch
on a Pepe's pizza, we want clams that include every delectable nuance of
the bivalve.
It is the vision of this particular pizza that makes a native son of New Haven yearn for that first view of Long Island Sound from the turnpike. The salivary glands wake up and take notice even before the turn onto Wooster Street and the search for a parking spot. The hour of waiting in line on a Saturday night only heightens the anticipation.
Finally the pie is delivered to the booth: the ambrosia of the Elm City, a pitcher of beer for counterpoint, a knowing glance to family and friends; conversation ceases. Life is good.
Would you like a taste? Click on each slice you want to eat in the clam pie above. But be careful you don't overdo it!
Pepe's white (no tomato sauce) clam pie features freshly-shucked little neck clams, enough garlic cloves to make the whole room take notice, parmasean cheese, and 80 years of getting it just right.
