Upon consulting a few seasoned locals on how to host a proper clambake, I quickly discovered there was nothing "proper" about the occasion at all. To my relief it seems the meal is defined more by the romance of eating outdoors than by any exacting clambake criteria. While the memories of this beloved feast are firmly set-the warmth and wonder of a summer afternoon, breathing in salty steamy aromas of seafood cooking by a fire on the beach-the reality of the clambake is an image loosely drawn in the sand.

Despite its title and the presence of open flames, a good ol' clambake actually involves a whole lot of steaming-the attendance of clams and beach are desirable but not requisite. I wouldn't necessarily say it's "evolved," but the old-fashioned clambake has certainly been franchised. Today's tapestry of variations swings widely, from the location to the fixins to the level of pomp. The Hamptons, in particular, has stamped more than a few lavish notions on this colonial-rooted meal (it was the coastal Indians who introduced European settlers to cooking seafood and corn over hot stones dug into the ground). One may have noticed that a good many local clambakes have been upgraded to professionally catered, high-toned affairs of late. But don't be put off by some of these clambake-goes-to-finishing-school events-there is still fun and flavor to be found in them thar' clam shells.

A glorious New England tradition, the real-deal clambake is steeped in salty Nantuckety air and prepared by athletic men with muscular arms cooking over an open-flame pit; dangerous but dignified in is preparation, it is a meal to be devoured by bright-eyed, ruddy-cheeked types wearing cableknit sweaters and sitting around the fire. Hearty and outdoorsy, it evokes the spirit of camping and getting back to nature without giving up too many indoor sensibilities. Although the cooking and consumption of clams has never been elegant in practice, the traditional clambake was hardly primitive-these out-of-towners were feasting on steamed lobster and shellfish after all-it's just that some Hamptonites seem intent on making it posh.

The country clambakes of yore were decidedly minimalist but labor-intensive affairs, where large cooking pits were dug either in the sand or in the coastal New England earth (even when not on the beach, a view of the water certainly bolsters the atmosphere). These ovens were then lined with massive stones, and upon them a large wood fire was set and left to burn fiercely for hours, sometimes for a full day. After the stones had risen to almost white-hot temperature, the burning logs were cleared from the oven with pitchforks and the food was layered upon the stones to delicately steam. Shining clams, kicking lobsters, husked corn, spicy homemade dressing and bags of scrubbed potatoes, maybe even some chicken, fish or mussels, were all strategically layered according to how long it would take each to cook. Then came the closing of the bake: this stage involved a heavy canvas cover being drawn over the pit and carefully tucked around the edibles like a protective blanket, to seal in the salty steam of the clams and, in the tradition of most miraculous one-pot dishes, to allow the food to cook and percolate in their collaborative juices, rendering the meal a succulent and flavorful feast. The food was then retrieved and served up on communal tables to the salivating audience, who'd use their fingers to pluck warm and tender morsels from the shells and dunk them in the dipping pots of melted butter before devouring. It is little wonder this luxurious tradition has moved on but never died out.

Clambake in a pot Serves 4 Cooking time: approx. 40 minutes The new potatoes in this indoor clambake will help determine cooking time. When they're tender, the lobster will have turned bright red and the clams and mussels will be open. Clams, mussels and lobsters should be alive when you buy them. Ingredients 1/2 to 1 pound kielbasa or other smoked sausage 1/2 to 1 pound slab bacon, in one piece (optional) 3 or 4 pounds hard-shell clams, washed (more if you don't use the meat) 3 or 4 pounds mussels, washed and debearded 1 pound approximately tiny new potatoes, or waxy potatoes cut in small chunks 2 1/4 to 1 1/2 pound live lobsters 4 ears corn, shucked Melted butter (optional) 1. Put the kielbasa and bacon in a large deep pot. Add the clams and mussels, then the potatoes. Top with the lobsters and corn. Add two cups water. Cover, and turn heat to high. 2. Cook, shaking pot every few minutes, for about 20 minutes. Remove lid carefully, and check a potato to see if it's done. If not, re-cover and cook for 10 minutes. Lobsters should be red at this point. 3. To serve, place corn on a platter and cover. Split lobsters or break off claws and tails; assemble on another platter. Use a big spoon to scoop mussels, clams and potatoes into a large bowl. Use tongs to remove the meat; slice and place on a plate. Scoop out remaining shellfish and ladle some broth over potatoes. Serve buffet style with melted butter.

Roasted corn with cheese Serves 2 These delectable ears of corn coated with crumbly Cotija cheese are a popular street-vendor food in Mexico (and Nolita, where locals queue for them at Café Habana, a hip Cuban hangout). Cotija is a pungent, low-fat, cow's milk cheese that is popular to use sprinkled over food in Mexico. You can substitute with feta, however, which is more widely available. Ingredients 4 ears of corn in the husk 1/4 cup mayonnaise 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or chilli powder to taste 3/4 cup shredded Cotija or feta cheese Lime wedges, to serve 1. Prepare grill. Soak corn in husks in cold water for 10 minutes. Drain corn and grill on a rack set 5 to 6 inches over glowing coals until husks are charred (about 10 minutes). Shuck corn and grill until kernels are browned in spots (about 10 minutes). 2. While corn is grilling, in a small bowl whisk together mayonnaise and cayenne pepper. Using the small teardrop-shaped holes on a four-sided grater, grate cotija cheese. 3. Brush mayonnaise mixture onto hot corn and sprinkle with cojita. 4. Serve corn on the cob with lime wedges on the side.

Clamman 235A North Sea Road, Southampton, (631) 283-6669 A great one-stop seafood shop just off the highway in Southampton. Whether your tastes are high-poached salmon with dill, imported caviar, whole lobsters with butter-or low-homemade clam chowder and blackened fish burgers-the Clamman will have them covered. They are particularly famous for their Clam in a Can portable clambakes; a sealed metal can comes layered with a still-kicking lobster, shrimp, clams, mussels, potatoes and ears of corn, with some fresh herbs and butter thrown in. It's a prefab meal that requires you to add only a quart of water, beer, or wine (depending on your preference), and then steam on a grill or stove-top. The most flavor you're ever going to get out of a can. Claws on Wheels 17 Race Lane, East Hampton, (631) 324-9224 This cozy seafood shop may not have the largest selection of fish in the Hamptons, but what they do have is top-grade and slapping-fresh. Plump scallops that arrive still pulsing, meaty swordfish steaks and exemplary slabs of red tuna are just a few of their deep-sea offerings, plus fresh-made salads and side dishes-basically everything you need cleaned and cut for an old-fashioned clambake. Whether you're after a catered sand-held affair or just want some hand-picked lobster rolls to go, this is the place to cast your net.

Although New Yorkers are now seasoned clambakers, it apparently took them some time to catch up to the bakes hosted by their New England cousins. In 1882, the New York Times published an article where the writer, upon visiting Westport, Massachusetts, lamented the loathsome state of local clambakes:

"To the average New Yorker, whose ideas of a clambake are confined to the public bakes furnished at Coney Island, the feast so popular in Rhode Island and the shore counties of Massachusetts is anything but attractive. It is suggestive only of dirty clam shells, inclosing diminutive clams, and a large quantity of sand which penetrates between the teeth and destroys the appetite and digestion... and in rare cases of poorly baked and half-husked green corn, which is scarcely fit to be fed to the hogs of a fairly-to-do farmer."

By comparison, this well-staged Westport production was "a rare treat," where "the woods rang with the merry laugh of country maidens and their gallants," while "a score of men were seated on the ground nearby carefully washing and sorting 200 bushels of clams which had been dug the night before on the shores of the Providence River... small, luscious-looking bivalves, whose shells fairly shone as they came from the hands of the cleaners." Indeed!

But fast forward 125 years, and you'll find some Hamptons-based bakes have rather emasculated the clam and its companions. Granted, a clambake on the sand involves a lot of prepping and schlepping, particularly now that finicky tastes have put an end to the notion that one pot should suffice to cook chicken, lobster, corn et al-sometimes to the detriment of both flavor and labor-according to old-schoolers. These days, the roasting of corn, steaming of lobsters, swordfish on the grill, and a raw bar on the side for clams and oysters on the shell can involve carting everything but the chandelier to the beach.

So try not to be too domesticated and precious; you can get some sand between your toes without getting it between your teeth, and tiki torches and stemware do not necessarily a great clambake make. A rewarding clambake can be as simple as lobster rolls and grilled Cotija-smeared corn on the beach or roasted hotdogs and steamed mussels in the backyard.

There's a marvelous social advantage to cooking around an open fire, and the rare thing about a clambake is that the hardcore technique added little to the flavor, so you can replicate a labor-friendly version of the one-pit method on your stovetop without too much regret. Just get some great fresh seafood, introduce it to some potatoes and corn, then let it all steam and mingle. Serve it up outside, with maybe some clam chowder to start, and fresh watermelon to finish. Sand is optional.

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