Please tap that little heart in the top left corner—it gives me creds with the boss.
It’s starting to feel a lot like winter where I am on the coast of Maine, and as if in celebration of the crisp weather, it’s scallop season too. The sweet tender nuggets are sought by dayboat fishermen who forage within three miles of shore, leaving port before dawn and returning in the early afternoon with up to 15 gallons, the permitted harvest, of fresh shucked scallops. (A gallon of shucked scallops weighs around nine pounds, or 135 pounds all told; the catch is closely regulated.)
“Wicked good” is a phrase old-fashioned Mainers use when they really-really like something, and Maine sea scallops, harvested from cold, clean waters in deep bays and around widely scattered islands, everyone agrees, are truly wicked good. It makes up for no lobsters at this chilly time of the year.
What makes these scallops so desirable is both texture and flavor. That requires a brief lesson in physiology. The part of the scallop we consume is the adductor muscle, which connects the two shells of the bivalve. Most bivalves—clams, mussels, and the like—are immobile, sitting in one place throughout their entire life cycle, patiently waiting for food to float by. But scallops are unusual in that they actually swim, clapping their shells together to propel themselves away from predators. As they swim, the adductor muscle grows into a meaty chunk, as tender and tasty as filet mignon. As for the flavor, Maine sea scallops have a distinctive sweet nuttiness that comes from the cold salt waters in which they thrive. Unlike scallops from other places, they are as tasty raw as they are seared in a skillet or baked in a sea pie.
And because this is entirely a dayboat catch, the scallops arrive in port within hours of harvest and are usually shipped out within a short time-frame, as fresh as a Maine morning. And freshness is key to the whole experience of dayboat scallops. If you’re not hanging out around a Maine waterfront at this time of the year, you can still order sustainably harvested scallops from Togue Brawn at Downeast Dayboat here.
Deep-sea scallops, on the other hand, because the fishing boats are at sea for longer periods of time, must be preserved in ice and a solution of sodium tripolyphosphate (STPP), an additive that is “generally recognized as safe,” according to the U. S. Food and Drug Administration. These should properly be marketed as “wet” scallops, while dayboat scallops are “dry.” Consumer alert: Even if you can’t find Maine sea scallops, you should only buy “dry” scallops. And any responsible fish monger should know the difference.
Why is that so important? Apart from the questionable use of STPP, scallops are like little sponges and absorb all that moisture, which also increases their weight. If you try to sear wet scallops, you’ll discover that they never brown and instead exude a milky liquid into the frying pan. I have occasionally made the mistake of buying these deep-sea scallops—“wet” scallops—and it was indeed a mistake.
Once you have the best quality scallops in your kitchen, use them quickly, within a day or two. Freezing scallops will prolong the season, and scallops freeze better than almost any other kind of seafood. But they’re also delicious raw (a squeeze of lime juice, a pinch of chopped green jalapeño, a little fresh cilantro will give them a delightful Mexican touch) or cooked up in a variety of simple ways. Here is one recipe, adapted from my New Mediterranean Diet Cookbook, and it’s how I love to serve them to guests crowded around my kitchen table on a chilly night in January. With a brisk fire in the woodstove, a couple of rum toddies to start with, and a properly chilled Muscadet or Chablis to go with, it warms up even the coldest Maine winter. You don’t need much more than this—a salad of bitter winter greens and perhaps an apple tart for dessert. It’s how we like to eat in Maine—simple, straightforward, and delicious.
But first, a couple of tips in the kitchen:
Be sure you get dry scallops, not wet ones
Remove and discard the thick, opaque bit attached like a strap to the side of the muscle—it’s tough (cats, on the other hand, love it)
Dry the scallops thoroughly with paper towels just before you start to cook
Don’t crowd the scallops when you sear them—they need plenty of room to brown perfectly.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to On the Kitchen Porch to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.