It was one of those mornings that was threatening to turn into one of those days: grey, cool, the air filled with a soft middling rain. A day perfect for chowder. We scoured a few of the many cookbooks in the Pease House library and cobbled together what sounded like a simple, pure path to chowderness. 
Step one: gather ye clams. We gathered ours at Hatch’s in Wellfleet, seven pounds split between Littlenecks (the perceptibly smaller) and Cherrystones (the bigger ones).
Step two: scrub clams to remove grit. Enlisted daughter to do this. Seven pounds of clams took her so long, she said, it gave “her hands a headache.” But kudos to her: our chowder had almost no grit in it.
Step three: steam open the clams in simmering water, pulling each out as it opens. Once all the clams are finished, reserve liquid which is now a delicious broth. (When pouring off into a container, hold back the last tablespoon or two in the ongoing interest of grit control.)
Step four: bacon. Then onions.
Step five: Meanwhile, you’ve diced a cup or so of boiling potatoes like red bliss, and have herbs ready—a bay leaf, fresh thyme from the garden (well, if you’re lucky), and, for later, fresh parsley. So after your bacon and onions are cooked, add potatoes, thyme and bay leaf, reserved broth—bolster with additional clam broth or water to make five cups—and cook until potatoes are soft.
Step six: add the cooked shucked clams after giving them a course chop. I prefer meaty pieces, but there was some grumbling that the clams were too large.
Use your judgment. Step seven: add a cup of heavy cream and cook over a medium-low flame until the soup is warmed through. Garnish with minced parsley, freshly ground pepper, and oyster crackers. Take advantage of the day’s rain to have a nice nap afterward, assured that when you wake up the day will have improved and it’s time for the beach.
