“All About Whatever It Is”
By Emmett Watson
Published in The Seattle Post-Intelligencer, February 14, 1972
The Seattle Post-Intelligencer | Monday, February 14, 1972
IN THE COURSE of a rather shapeless life spent mostly in the Northwest, I have managed to survive by not thinking much about the geoduck. It is not hard not to think about a geoduck. It amazes me how easy it is, really. The last time I thought about a geoduck was many years ago, when the then city editor of Brand X, Mr. Henry MacLeod, explained, first, what a geoduck was, how you hunted or captured it, and the way you made chowder from it. As Mr. MacLeod (he's now a managing editor, or Heloise in disguise) spoke in detail about the geoduck, I found my mind wandering. Thus began my long career of not thinking about geoducks.
IT WAS not Henry's fault. He was quite eloquent on the subject. But I was thinking about a pay raise, or something. Maybe it was a memo I'd received, for having used the word "vicious" when I really meant "savage" in describing a sports event. A scolding memo from another editor of that period. "Look up the precise meaning," said the memo. Shortly thereafter, I mistook the address on my way to work and wound up at the P-I, where, it developed, my contract did not call for thinking about geoducks .
(Where is this getting us?)
WELL, THE long period of not thinking, caring, or even tasting a geoduck has been brought to an end. Lately, people have been thrusting documents under my nose, demanding that I take a stand on geoducks. "You are very big on fair weather," said one critic. "You strike out fearlessly in favor of motherhood and pasteurized milk. People stand in awe of your courage in denouncing poor toilet training. But where do you stand on geoducks? You're a spineless jeJ!yfish." (I don't think much about jellyfish, either, but that's another story.)
WHAT TOUCHED this off was a story about the giant clam, the geoduck, in the December issue of "Pacific Search." It is written by Harriet Rice, who happens to be the sister of Stimson Bullitt. You know how it is with the Bullitt family. They are always starting a lumber fortune, a TV station, a magazine or an argument. In this case Ms. Rice wrote about geoducks. Citing the American Heritage Dictionary (the Late City Edition), she lists such alternate spellings as geoduck, goeduck, gooeyduck, or gweduc.
SHE THEN quoted Francois Kissel, the French chef of the Brasserie Pittsbourg, on how to cook gooeyduck, or whatever. A vicious, or savage thought occurred at this point - namely that the plans for the Boeing roto-dome are not quite as complicated as Monsieur Kissell's recipe for cooking this glorified clam. As I read on, I thought of Mr. MacLeod, who was only trying to hustle a little chowder out of the beast.
THAT SHOULD be the end of it, right? But no. A columnist in Portland, Doug Baker, opened an attack on Ms. Rice. According to Baker, "Ms. Rice also errs, when she says, 'the neck is what you are after.' (Gweducs, or gooeyducks, or whatever, have long necks, but don't let that depress you.) "The people who are currently diving for geoducks in Puget Sound in 50 feel of water, using compressed air guns to force them from the sea bed, have little regard for the neck, which, I understand, is ground up for pet food” –he obviously has never met Mr. MacLeod. "Il's the steaks in the main body of clam they are after.”
"I WOULD like to invite Ms. Rice to visit Portland where at least half a dozen restaurants serve a tasty version of geoduck (gweduc, if she prefers) without benefit of wine sauces and complicated recipes."
NOW THAT we both have learned more than we care lo know about geoducks, the end is at hand. Ms. Rice, who turns out to be a Mrs., accepted the challenge. She and her husband, Sid, visited Portland. Aside from the fact that it seems like a hell of a long way to travel for an oversize clam, things went off well enough. Francoise Kissell and his wife, Julia, were invited, but declined because of illness–there being no truth to the rumor that they became ill from eating their own gweducs.
UP TO NOW I have only recited the facts of the case. I prefer to come out on more controversial issues, like fresh air, although I'd be curious to know in what kind of sauce Mons. Kissell would cook a spineless jellyfish. Someday, if you insist, we will print Mons. Kissell's recipe, now that Ms. Rice has declassified it. For all I know, it may be cited in the EIlsberg trial.
AS YOU can see the whole thing is a vicious circle. Or do I mean savage?
