The concept of a seafood shanty is laden with nostalgic memories. Some of my happiest childhood experiences were the family camping trips on Cape Cod each summer. When my father came home from work Friday afternoon, my sister and I piled into the back seat of the station wagon and we headed east from our home in Connecticut.
I don’t remember much about those road trips until we reached Buzzards Bay. Then, on the other side of the canal, we’d finally stop at a roadside seafood shack for dinner. Fifty-cent quarts of fried clams signaled the start of our vacation. No air conditioning, just greasy food and sand everywhere – that was paradise. As the week progressed, we hit the beach and, after long hikes through dunes, I’d chance on some of the outer Cape’s abandoned shanties. Their sense of desolation and eternal summer became, in my mind, the true Cape Cod experience.
The people at Somethin’ Catchy seem wise to that beachside ethos; they even provide a sandy mini-beach in a corner of the dining room, with a child-height porthole providing a view of live fish. Plenty of well-worn beach knickknacks provide the decor. But the kitchen side of the room is not like the flytrap, grease-coated affairs I remember. Gleaming stainless steel and impeccably clean appliances are the standard at Somethin’ Catchy.
Judging by the scant three picnic tables (plus a card table for the youngsters), I’d reckon that Somethin’ Catchy aspires more toward take-out than eat-in. We arrived before the rush, so there was plenty of time to explore the room and snag one of the available tables. In front of the window was a smaller table kitted out for personalizing their featured dessert – fried dough. In addition to the standard toppings of powdered sugar and cinnamon, there were squeeze bottles of various flavored syrups. This might be a shanty, but Somethin’ Catchy is the Taj Mahal of fried dough.
With all these fond childhood memories summoned back, how could I order anything but clams? There are a few choices: platters or rolls, whole belly or strips. I went with the clam roll, whole belly of course, because bellies are the heart of the clam experience. For those less enamored of clams, there are lobster rolls, fish and chips and a comprehensive menu that even features weenies for the kids.
Now that we’d committed to clams, we went full throttle and started with an order of clam fritters. Made fresh, they were satisfyingly packed with clammy bits and deep in clam flavor. Sizzling hot out of the fryer and a deep, golden brown, they were served in a paper box, just like those from my childhood memories.
A cup of clam chowder proved even better. Somethin’ Catchy’s was creamy, flavorful and studded with chopped clams and soft potato chunks – award-winning, I daresay!
So far, so good. And now for the clam roll. As the cook delivered our meals, he noted with pride, “The tartar sauce is already in the bun!” His pleasure was my distress, and I could feel my heart sinking as I tried to hide my disappointment.
For me, tartar sauce and ketchup are anathema. I just don’t understand why so many people need to smother delicious seafood with a mayonnaisey concoction. Same with ketchup on fries… not on mine!
If this had been a well-established venue or, heaven forbid, a franchise restaurant, I would have requested a replacement meal. But I decided to accept it and remember to be more specific when ordering in the future. To be fair, the clams were large, sweet and crispy-crunchy, with soft, tasty bellies, and crammed to overflowing in a buttery toasted hotdog bun. Classic!
My friend ordered the whole-clam dinner. Both our meals were served stacked on piles of fresh-cut french fries. The meals came in paper-lined baskets on plastic trays, shanty style. One selects from the Coke family of beverages out of a glass-doored cooler.
The shanty concept is brilliant, and I hope we can take our dinners outside when the warm weather returns. Too bad we can’t go back to mid-1960’s prices!
Somethin’ Catchy Seafood Shanty | 358 Shrewsbury St., Worcester | (508) 767-3474 | somethincatchyworc.com
By Bernie Whitmore