The Chowder Barge
A maritime gem hidden among the wharves of Long Beach
This past Christmas marked the very first time in my life that I did not return home to New Jersey for the holidays. Of course my mother was aghast at this idea, as were my siblings, grandparents, various cousins, aunts & uncles, etc. The truth is I would have loved to go, but between plane tickets, gifts for a sprawling Italian family, and various travel expenses, the holidays at home usually costs me at about a grand and a half, and despite its high production values, this humble blog simply does not provide that kind of expendable income.
Hopefully 2024 is the year the money faucets begin flowing again for the journalism business. We’ll see what happens.
In lieu of family tradition, I spent a completely novel (to me) holiday in the decidedly un-Christmasy locale of Southern California, specifically Long Beach (cue “Christmas in LA by Vulfpeck). The reason being, some close friends of mine from Jersey were going home for the holidays and needed someone to watch their dogs. I’m sure their parents were thrilled, unlike my own, as I am continually reminded.
So my partner and I shacked up in our friends’ adorable little bungalow in Lomita, alongside two crazed beasts and a third wild beast of our own, not to mention one cat and a turtle named Tortellini. To make things even more comical, my partner’s mother flew in from Mexico City to join us. Suffice it to say, my “chill” holiday in California wound up being nearly as chaotic as the Jersey version.
To placate my mother-in-law’s insatiable desire for planned activities, we decided to spend a day in Long Beach. I had never been before, but heard there was a touristy boardwalk to explore along with some museums and other mother-in-law type activities. The afternoon was truly a cute one, replete with long walks along the water, candied apple treats, and Mother’s first Lime scooter ride (a roaring success). On the way home, we decided to stop for dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall my partner had researched called The Chowder Barge.
To get there, we had to cross Henry Ford Avenue, a wide industrial boulevard crowded with tractor trailers headed for the Port of Los Angeles, which is in fact the largest shipping port on the West Coast (sorry Oakland). The smog-choked street leading up to The Chowder Barge was in terrible shape. This neighborhood actually reminds me of my first job, working at Anderson Lumber, a now-defunct family business located in North Bergen, New Jersey, one of the dirtiest, most industrial towns in the entire Garden State. If North Bergen is the armpit of New Jersey, consider Henry Ford Avenue the groin of Los Angeles.
Dodging crater-sized potholes in our tiny Volkswagen, we barely found the place at all. When we finally located the parking lot, it became apparent that we were at an actual working marina full of sailboats.
As a lover of all things crusty and old fashioned, marinas are my happy place. I immediately rejoiced at the barnacle-covered docks and the tall masts bobbing happily in the bay. It reminded me of my own cherished marina in the Bay Area, Point San Pablo, home to my beloved sailboat the Wabi Sabi, as well as the Sailing Goat, a new restaurant serving wood-fired pizzas that I should probably review.
The Chowder Barge bills itself as “the only floating restaurant in Los Angeles.” This old-timey sailor’s den dates back to 1934, when it served as a support vessel for Mutiny On The Bounty. That’s according to a very short blurb written in comic sans on the Chowder Barge’s archaic website.
My attempt to source more information about this origin story was thwarted when I learned the restaurant was closed for maintenance on January 17th (the day I wrote this article). Sadly, there was no one around to answer the phone. But I do plan to call again tomorrow, so the curious-minded should check in on the web version of this newsletter for any updates.
My presumption is that Mutiny on the Bounty is a vessel named after an actual mutiny that occurred on an actual British Royal Navy ship called Bounty in 1789. And that is a story I can tell you about. Over a bowl of hot clam chowder, of course!
Oh dear, where are my manners? You must be getting hungry. So let me first provide you with what you came for: spicy hot takes on California’s East Coast comfort food. Once dinner is served, I’ll tell you all about the Bounty.
After traversing a narrow gangway onto the docks, you’ll enter The Chowder Barge to discover a fantastically anachronistic interior straight out of a Hollywood movie set. Equal parts American sailor bar and South Pacific tiki hut, The Chowder Barge is covered head to toe in nautically themed art and bric-a-brac.
Colorful pennants that used to fly atop sailing ships, tiki masks, painted fish, little metal beach houses, ships in a bottle… these are the kind of decorations you might find at your grandma’s beach house. But it doesn’t feel fake or designed for tourists, like Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco for instance. This is a genuine hangout for sailors and dock workers. So don’t blow the secret, ok??
Completing the aesthetic of authenticity is a trio of tough-looking dockworkers huddled at the bar clutching enormous beers. The place reminds me of a West Coast version of McSorley’s Old Ale House in New York (which is an absolute must-visit if you’re on the East Coast).
Speaking of McSorley’s, Joe Mitchell’s collection of New Yorker stories by the same name is my all-time favorite work of literary journalism, and Mitchell himself may be my biggest journalistic hero. Readers, take note.
A look at the menu of this establishment reveals standard seafood fare combined with some truly unique offerings, like their signature dish, “The Rev’s Chowder Burger.”
This ridiculous item is exactly what it sounds like: a cheeseburger dunked in a full bowl of clam chowder. Of course, I had no choice but to order this regional delight ($20).
For the table, we ordered fish ‘n chips ($18) and one “double clam chowder” ($16) which is a bowl of chowder topped with fried clams.
Eyeing the workers at the bar, envious of their enormous beers, my partner also ordered a michelada in the “captain’s mug” ($17). Mother and I are not maniacs, so we ordered normal-sized beers.
Before the food comes, I feel obliged to note that Manhattan-style clam chowder was not even mentioned on this menu, nor was its hybrid cousin, Long Island style. In fact, the chowder on this menu was not even defined as New England clam chowder, it was simply referred to as “chowder.” Rather than deducting points, I applaud this decision.
On the East Coast everybody know there is only one true style of clam chowder, and that is the thick, rich and creamy broth that is New England. Manhattan clam chowder (defined by a red tomato-based broth) is a joke, even in New York. I don’t know a single person who favors Manhattan over New England.
It’s almost like New Yorkers invented their own style of clam chowder simply because they can’t stand the idea of not being the best at something. Listen New York, you got the best bagels, you got the best pizza, you excel at literally everything else, so just let New England have this one, ok? All they got goin for them is cold winters and a whole lotta white people… they could really use a win.
Long Island style chowder is a slight improvement over Manhattan, but only because it’s cut 50-50 with New England. I can get down with a blush the same way I can enjoy a cool glass of rosé on a hot summer night. But even the best rosé doesn’t compare to the rich complexity of a high quality Italian red wine, which in this analogy is actually white, New England style clam chowder. Manhattan clam chowder - while red in color - is basically the white wine of the soup world. There might be a couple nut jobs out there who claim its superiority, but nobody really takes them seriously.
You get it?
Suffice it to say, New England style is widely considered the best, most satisfying style of clam chowder ever made. If you disagree, get at me in the comments. Let’s fight about it.
Now, how about this chowder burger, huh?! I can’t say I ever would have thought to do this on my own, but when you consider the invention of the bread bowl as a modern day accessory to the classic that is clam chowder, it starts to make a lot of sense. A nice piece of bread to sop up the soup, with some extra protein and salt in the middle.
But how does it taste?
Honestly, pretty damn good. The chowder itself is rich, salty, savory, and smoky. The last adjective in that sentence is not a usual suspect when it comes to clam chowder, so I must attribute it to the burger. The burger itself isn’t much to write home about, but who cares, it’s in a damn bowl of soup!
I can definitively say this is the first time in my life that I’ve eaten a cheeseburger with a spoon.
I’m not usually one for gimmicks, but this dish rules. It’s so over-the-top you can’t help but have fun while eating it. It’s like when they bring out the sizzling fajitas on a smoking-hot skillet at the Mexican restaurant. Or when the hibachi chef does the flaming volcano trick on the grill. Is it corny? Yes. But is it just plain fun? Also yes.
The double chowder (pictured left) was a classic bowl of clam chowder topped with fried clams, and it was a better indicator of the actual quality of this soup. I have to say, it passed the Jersey Boy test with flying colors. This soup is rich, flavorful and abundant with chunky bits of bacon. That must be what gives it the smoky taste. Sprinkled with fresh-cracked black pepper, it’s a phenomenal bowl of soup. The fried clams on top add a satisfying crunch factor that I’ve never encountered in New England (not to say it doesn’t exist, I just haven’t tried it).
The fish n’ chips was the perfect dish to round things out, providing lots of yummy, crunchy, deep fried morsels perfect for dipping in our two clam chowders. I wonder if the chefs planned it that way on purpose? Either way, this combination works, and it works well.
The whole shebang was brought home with a side dish of coleslaw that made me feel like I was back in Jersey at the diner.
FINAL THOUGHTS
I can say without hesitation that this is the best bowl of clam chowder I have ever tried in California. Maybe - I hate to even say it - the best bowl I’ve tried… anywhere? Uh Oh… New England’s only culinary win is starting to go south faster than a Tom Brady touchdown pass.
The combination of down and dirty location, waterfront views, authentic sailor-themed interior, top quality clam chowder, decent prices, and the hilariously inventive signature dish that is the chowder burger results in the following rating.
West Coast: 10
East Coast: 11
That’s right folks. For the very first time in Jersey Boy history, the East Coast rating is higher than the West Coast rating. If you remember how my patented East Coast/West Coast rating system works, normally a West Coast perfect 10 would only rise to about a 7 or 8 were it located on the East Coast. But this time, The Chowder Barge exceeds East Coast standards. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve tried an East Coast comfort food in California that was better than what I typically find back East. Sorry New England, but the best clam chowder spot this reviewer has ever tried is in Long Beach, California.
For you dedicated readers who made it all the way to the bottom in hopes of hearing the fantastical true tale of the Mutiny on the Bounty, fear not! I wrote nearly 600 words on the subject before I realized with sadness that I could not fit it into the newsletter. Turns out emails have length limits? Who knew.
But the story is so complex and fascinating that I simply have to write about it. So I will be publishing a bonus post next week about everything I’ve learned about this wild mutiny and how it all connects back to the fabulous Chowder Barge of Long Beach.
Until next week, stay spicy my friends.