Call me . . . hungry. Or Ishmael, Peter or Michael. But not Lee, Katia or especially Irene. I'm rain-soaked and ready for chowder.
Herman Melville devoted a passage to chowder in "Moby Dick," describing a place where you could eat it all day, to the point that you expected fish bones to exit your clothes.
On Long Island, you can dive into deep red Manhattan-style chowder and reddish Rhode Island-style. Maybe there's a milky Connecticut chowder out there, too.
But I'm hungry and ready for more. If you find one, let me know.
It's only September, but there's already a "damp, drizzly November in my soul."
Photo: H2O's chowder.