Standing among
the marsh grass,
the salty air
brushing his face,
he scans the
muddy bottom
one last time to
make sure he
hasn’t left any
area un-foraged.
Like the clams
he rakes, the salt
water, salty air
and tidal ebb and
flow of the sound
provide everything
he needs.
where Harrell hauls his loot and where Danny Hieronymus has worked for several years.
The son of Captain Glenn Hieronymus, who with his siblings originally opened Hieronymus
Brothers Seafood in 1980, Danny Hieronymus grew up clamming and oystering the waters behind his
family’s Hampstead home. He got this first johnboat when he was eight years old.
Armed with just his mother’s garden rake, gloves and buckets, Hieronymus says his clamming skills
quickly changed when a friend informed him that there was such a thing as a clam rake. From there,
like all other commercial fishermen, Hieronymus learned that he could depend on the clam when he
needed some quick cash.
“Some of my friends were taking a surf trip up to the Outer Banks this one weekend and I needed
some gas and food money,” he recalls. “So I skipped school Thursday and Friday and went clamming.”
Now that he has spent most of his life in the commercial fishing industry, as well as the restaurant
industry having trained at Johnson and Wales University College of Culinary Arts, Hieronymus knows
how important the clam is.
“I consider clamming just about the backbone of the fishing industry because you can always fall
back on it,” Hieronymus says. “If all the seasons are closed on everything else, at least you can still go
clamming, so it is like a little salvation for commercial fishermen.”
Hieronymus is also well aware of the importance of clams in bringing the most out of seafood dishes,
both for the meat and the juice.
“When oyster season comes up, the clam does take a back seat … which it shouldn’t,” he says.
“People underestimate the clam, it’s not just for the meat, it’s also for the juice, that clam juice
is priceless.”
From the shell to the meat to the juice, Jerry Harrell knows the whole clam is priceless. Standing
among the marsh grass, the salty air brushing his face, he scans the muddy bottom one last time to
make sure he hasn’t left any area un-foraged. Like the clams he rakes, the salt water, salty air and tidal
ebb and flow of the sound provide everything he needs.
“I reckon I’m fortunate enough to make a living out here … if you can call it that,” he muses. “But
at least I’m not killing myself in some mill or something.”
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WBM january 2013