The best no-frills clam bars on the Jersey Shore, top to bottom

There is a moment at a clam bar that cannot be manufactured.

You are sitting outside, probably at a picnic table that has seen better days. There is a slight breeze off the water. Someone drops a basket of steamers in front of you and a cup of melted butter alongside it. The smell alone takes you somewhere else. If you grew up in New Jersey anywhere near the Shore, you know exactly where that somewhere else is. And if you are visiting us for the first time this summer — welcome. You found the right place.

Clams are in my blood

I mean that as close to literally as a person can mean it. My great-grandfather David Johnson was a bayman on Barnegat Bay. He clammed for a living. That is what the Johnson family did. My father Carl grew up with that connection and carried it forward — he had his own clam chowder recipe handed down from David's time, and he made a clam stew that was different from the chowder in ways I still cannot fully explain except to say I would eat both right now without hesitation. He made clam fritters too.

I ate so many of those fritters in one sitting that I left one behind on the plate when I was done. My dad was not thrilled. But somewhere underneath the frustration I could tell he was pleased, because a kid who binges on clam fritters is a kid who understands something important about where he came from.

We had family clambakes at my Aunt Nancy's in Absecon every Fourth of July. The clambakes behind the VFW hall in Mays Landing were their own institution. Steamers, fried, in a white clam sauce over linguine — there was no wrong way to eat a clam as long as you were eating one. That is still my position.

So here are the clam bars you should find this summer. No frills. No dress code. Just the Shore doing what the Shore does best.

SEE ALSO: The best South Jersey scenic drives — and where to stop on each one 

The Clam Bar (Smitty's) — Somers Point

Most people call it Smitty's. The sign says The Clam Bar. Either way, everyone on the Shore knows exactly where you mean. It opened in 1973 in a small shack at Smith's Marina on Bay Avenue, and it is now in its 52nd season — cash only, BYOB, blue counter wrapping around the exterior, same as always. Pull up a stool. Order a dozen top-necks shucked to order. Get the chowder — white or red, your call, but get it. The phrase on the staff T-shirts is "You Can't Lick Our Clams," which tells you everything you need to know about the attitude of the place. This is the Shore the way the Shore is supposed to feel.

Allen's Clam Bar — New Gretna

This one sits near the Bass River in New Gretna, which puts it squarely in the Pine Barrens meets Barnegat Bay territory that South Jersey people know and love. Fresh seafood, no fuss — Allen's is known for its deviled clams and crab cakes in a laid-back setting that has been welcoming locals and passersby for years. If you are heading down the Parkway toward the Shore and you want to stop somewhere that does not feel like a tourist operation, get off and find this place. You will be glad you did.

Boulevard Clams — Surf City, LBI

Part market, part restaurant, Boulevard Clams specializes in daily-harvested shellfish from New Jersey's inland bays. Clams fried, stuffed, steamed, casinoed, and raw on the half shell — this is a place that takes the full range of what a clam can be and treats each version with respect. Long Beach Island people have been coming here for years. If you are renting on LBI this summer, this is your spot.

Bahrs Landing — Highlands

Bahrs Landing has been serving fresh seafood since 1917 — which means it was doing this before your grandparents were born, before the Parkway existed, before half the Shore towns that tourists flock to today had paved roads. The views over Sandy Hook Bay are as good as the food. Get the steamers. Get the chowder. Sit outside if you can and watch the water.

Moby's — Highlands

Highlands sits right where the Shore begins for anyone coming down from North Jersey, and Moby's is waiting for them right on the water. A seasonal, open-air spot that operates during the warmer months only — completely outdoors, no pretense, no dress code. It sits right next door to the legendary Bahrs Landing, which means you have two serious options within steps of each other on the same block. That is not a problem. That is a Tuesday afternoon well spent.

A word on chowder

The Manhattan vs. New England debate is one of those Jersey Shore arguments that never gets resolved and should not be. My family made neither. My father's recipe leaned toward a Manhattan, but it wasn't.  One could say "Not New York, proud to be New Jersey!" The broth was light tomato — not quite Manhattan, not quite anything you would find in a can — and it was better than either of the standards. He actually called it "New Jersey clam chowder". His secret ingredient was salt pork.  I am due to make it again soon!  Maybe I'll share the recipe in a future article.  Need to consult with spirts of the Johnson clam men who came before me going back to my great grandfather.

The truth is that a good chowder at a good Shore clam bar, eaten outside with salt air around you, beats any version of any of the above...served anywhere else!

My great-grandfather clammed Barnegat Bay for a living. The least I can do is eat the results properly.