Clams, Chorizo, and the Last of the Leftovers

Hello, friend.

Well, I don’t know about you, but after the gluttony and carb-forward debauchery of last week, I am ready for something different to eat. Meanwhile, the ghost is still lounging around, patting his little belly like it’s Thanksgiving evening and he’s flush with good food and that incredible Jack White/Eminem halftime performance at the Lions game. On that point, I completely agree. Some things just linger.

The Stuffing That Would Not Die

Speaking of lingering: we did not manage to eat even half the stuffing I made. The dogs (and cat) happily finished the last of the turkey and Brussels sprouts, so the only thing I tossed was the stuffing—which I hate doing. Like Anthony Bourdain, I believe in wasting nothing. But this stuffing was giving Cauldron-of-Dagda energy: the more we ate, the more it multiplied.

That said, I did make one pretty inspired leftover dish: Delicata squash halves filled with stuffing, baked until tender, topped with goat cheese and cranberry relish. The star of the weekend. Unpublished, made-up, and yours for free. Don’t say I never give you anything.

Simplifying… or Trying To

Back to the present chaos.

I told the ghost I wanted something simple this week—no 39 steps, no 42 ingredients, nothing that needed to sleep overnight in the fridge.

He suggested sausage gravy and biscuits. I reminded him of his own recommendation to have Tums and wet wipes on standby. Hard pass.

Then:
Sea bass? Still made of unobtainium.
Clams? Better. These I can find.
So we landed on…

One recipe. And one very long name.

The Great Chorizo Dilemma of 2025

Now, the recipe specifically says, ”You need the fresh, soft, fiery red version of chorizo for this dish, the kind that bleeds out bright red-orange grease into the pot when you heat it.” Now, I’m pretty sure that fresh chorizo is uncooked and uncured. And therefore, cannot be sliced. I’m skeptical about this before I get to the store, and it only got worse. The store had only one kind of chorizo: neon red-orange paste in a plastic tube. Absolutely not sliceable. Fresh? Probably. But also, plastic tubes filled with meat are not my first choice.

So I went to a small Mexican market and found chorizo in sausage casings. Better… but still not sliceable. So, I browned it in a pan until I felt I could slice it without it completely losing its integrity. But, after par-cooking it, it was not oozing that bright red-orange grease the recipe so romantically promised. I’m pretty sure the tube of chorizo would have oozed all that and more.

Then I suddenly remembered the Basque Brand chorizo in my freezer—pre-cooked, beautifully colored, five links of perfection. Not what I would call fresh, but definitely sliceable. However, I only needed one of the links. I refused to create an opened and unsealed package situation for my future self, so back it went.

This entire saga was, frankly, the hardest part of the recipe.

The Actual Cooking (Shockingly Easy)

Easy. So easy, in fact, that I did all of it while unloading and reloading the dishwasher.

Clams: Nature’s Tiny Drama Queens

The ghost insisted on real Littleneck clams this time, not the small vacuum-packed ones we used for chowder. Lucky for me, the store had a little colony chilling on the ice.

I nestled them into the bubbling tomato mixture, covered the pot, and returned to dishwasher duty.

A few minutes later, two had opened.
Next check: one or two more were open.
A nudge with tongs.
A small drop test. (It did not open. It did splatter me with tomato.)

I puttered around the kitchen wondering how many clams I’d be tossing, then I checked again a half a minute later.

They had all opened—dramatically, nearly all at once. The last 30 seconds did it.

A Tower of Clams…and a Couch Dinner

I toasted bread, piled the clams high in a bowl, and poured the chorizo-tomato-leek-wine sauce over the top until it resembled a battle scene from The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.

That, my friend, is how adults play with their food.

I took photos, removed the clams from their shells for ease of eating, added a dash of salt and pepper, tossed everything together, grabbed the toast, and curled up on the couch with my bowl, my dogs, and my current favorite British police procedural.

I ate the entire thing myself. Yep.

If You Want to Impress Someone (or Your Dog), Make This

This dish looks fancy, tastes incredible, and cooks fast.
Perfect for impressing:

• a significant other

• a best friend

• a dog who supports your Michelin-star aspirations

• yourself, especially

Make this anytime the mood hits - after an evening at wine club where cheese and crackers stand in as dinner, when you’ve had a long day and need something really easy and flavorful, or, when you want to impress someone with your culinary skills. This dish will do it.

And…so you don’t have to rush to the store when the mood hits, buy the frozen clams (it’s fine, I promise I won’t tell him), keep some frozen chorizo on hand, and even some frozen sliced leeks. (I am absolutely doing this with my leftover leeks.) You can even freeze a couple of slices of sourdough bread so you can just pop them in the toaster. You should already have canned crushed tomatoes, garlic, and white wine (even cooking wine is fine) in your pantry. Dinner done and dusted.

If you try it, send photos, thoughts, or complaints. I’ll share them with the ghost—he lives for validation. I keep telling him he continues to exist through the people who cook his recipes, watch his TV shows, read his books, and still think and talk about him, but, like most ghosts, he occasionally needs reassurance he’s still relevant.

And if you have an idea for next week’s recipe, send it along, too. I love hearing from you.