Summer is the high season of new beginnings, especially for restaurateurs at the Jersey Shore, where the 100-day rush between Memorial Day and Labor Day is a chaotic blur of seafood, sunshine and long kitchen nights, and every year is an opportunity to write a fresh chapter. That was especially true of the restaurants I visited for Part One of my Shore dining series, which spans Long Beach Island and Atlantic City—and also skims the mainland coast for unexpected pearls.
Waretown
Clemmy’sWhen is a chef finally ready to take the plunge and go solo?
“I didn’t think we’d ever be ready,” says Allen Walski, 36, a Surf City native who’d put in nearly two decades of kitchen work from Long Beach Island (Plantation, the Arlington) to Philadelphia (Pumpkin) before the opportunity came along at the end of last summer to open Clemmy’s with his wife, Carolyn Walski. Even then, with a one-month-old son, Isaac, to go along with their toddler, Clementine, for whom this BYOB is named, “it was total chaos.”
One taste of his gorgeous tuna bathed in the tangy heat of pepperoncini sauce, or the smoked carrots that take two days to make, and it’s clear the Walskis have weathered the opening storm. Now in their second season and recently expanded, they’ve created something special in Waretown, a mainland community within Ocean Township that’s just north of the bridge from Manahawkin to LBI. Walski has channeled inspiration from tiny Pumpkin in Center City (”the happiest place I’ve ever cooked”) into the minimalist setting of a former breakfast space in a random strip mall, while his ingredient-focused approach to the menu is plugged directly into the best fishermen and farmers at the Shore.
That’s a smart approach in Waretown, a place that, to date, has not been known for destination dining. But that’s surely going to change, considering Clemmy’s just cooked the best meal of my two weeks at the Jersey Shore. There’s also an incredibly outgoing service staff (especially friendly to dogs on the sidewalk patio), and a grilled orange pound cake for dessert, created by Walski’s mom, Cathy Krams, that I can’t stop thinking about. Luckily, Clemmy’s just expanded into the former real estate office next door, increasing the capacity of its first-come, first-served seating to 44, from 26; it still fills up early.
Barnegat
The Oystery at Barnegat Oyster Collective
That’s where the collective, founded in 2015 to grow and distribute oysters from the salty waters of Barnegat Bay, has finally opened a multipurpose headquarters. Not only does it sort and prepare the oysters of the nine different growers it distributes, including the BOC’s own stellar Sugar Shacks, there’s a daily retail market for shellfish, grab-and-go scallop ceviche and octopus salads, and a raw bar where oysters from New Jersey and New England can be shucked for you to devour on-site.
The clam shell lot with picnic tables and seating for 160 has one of the best waterfront views around, just an eight-minute boat ride east from the collective’s farm. And a taste of those Sugar Shacks here is worth the visit, their briny pop followed by a subtle sweetness that should be a wake-up to the quality potential of New Jersey oysters these days. On afternoons between Thursday and Sunday, chef Daniel Komissar fires up the Argentine grill to cook a la carte skewers, from local tuna to shrimp, to go along with lobster cocktail, blow-torch-roasted oysters, and a selection of tinned fish “charcuterie” to complete the seafood picnic. The food operation is clearly still in its infancy, although the occasional guest chef takeover, with guest appearances so far by the Oyster House and Sweet Amalia’s Melissa McGrath, give a hint of the possibilities as it evolves.
With Forbidden Boardwalk regularly selling beer on-site and a planned collaboration soon with Bellview Winery, the Oystery is, at the very least, a potential raw bar stop for a pregame slurp while you wait for a table at Clemmy’s, which is just a five-minute drive away. But it could be much more. If you look toward the water’s edge, cofounders Matt Gregg and Scott Lennox will also show you the floating nursery along the dock, where 1.5 million baby oysters the size of peas are getting their start. The future of New Jersey oysters—and a popular new destination—is growing right before our eyes.
Long Beach Island
Harvey Cedars Shellfish Co.
There’s staying power in a simple seafood combo done right. That’s why hundreds of restaurants serve some variation of the theme at the Jersey Shore, where the salt air and steady pulse of waves in the background are a constant reminder you’re preciously close to the source. But considering the ubiquity of the genre, it’s amazing any place could survive for half a century relying on such a basic approach, let alone a 50-seat BYOB without a liquor license to cushion its all-too-brief season.
The secret at Harvey Cedars Shellfish Co. has always been family. Two brothers, John and Mike Garofalo, started the business selling local clams from a marina (and oil paintings!) in 1974, then two years later moved to their current location on Long Beach Boulevard, where the varnished picnic tables inside the dining room maintain a lively, casual vibe. They built a reputation for the freshest local seafood cooked with care—littlenecks steamed just until the tiny clams blister with pillows of juice; crisply fried flounder sandwiches; daily fresh chowders; pasta bowls heaped with shellfish—and the seasons just began to roll. Suddenly, half a century had passed.
“Go figure,” Mike wrote me in the spring as their 50th anniversary approached. “Never found a real job.”
Luckily, the second generation has now stepped up. Mike’s children, who grew up taking naps on beach towels behind the fish case, have taken over the business. Julie Warren, 33, who works in hospitality at a California luxury resort in the offseason, runs a front-of-house staff that is well-versed in the menu (guiding us to several gluten-free options) and exudes outgoing warmth, even as crowds compete fiercely for the first-come seating, now supplemented by a graciously shady front patio. Son Mike Garofalo, 35, is running the kitchen where he began washing dishes at age 10. (Coincidentally, Clemmy’s chef Allen Walski’s first job was also washing dishes at the Shellfish Co.) And Mike has maintained an admirable consistency that reminded me vividly of my last visit here nearly two decades ago.
The Shellfish Co. remains one of the best bets at the Jersey Shore to get a properly cooked lobster, my succulent one-and-a-half-pounder perfectly steamed beside a handful of those littlenecks and a sweet ear of white Jersey corn for $51. The standard one-pound lobster platter is $37, which is very reasonable by current prices—even if that platter cost $2.95 in 1974. The classic pan-fried crabcakes were bursting with meat, as was the cream cheese-y artichoke and crab dip. The bacon-scented clams casino came topped with a broiler-roasted round of a plum tomato. And there were other signature dishes, like the zesty fried calamari Veracruz tossed with chopped cherry peppers and Jersey tomatoes, and the tuna Fresco, a thick slice of local fish turned Mediterranean with roasted peppers, kalamata olives, artichokes and capers.
The siblings’ biggest innovation this season was to finally move past the cash-only tradition: They now accept credit cards. Julie says they’re open to small evolutions for the menu—with new ideas for specials and accommodating the demand for more entree salads, for example. But their time-tested formula for success remains the same—quality seafood served simply, with family-style hospitality.
“Twenty years down the road, I hope we’re doing the same thing,” says Julie, also noting that she and her brother both have young children growing up at Harvey Cedars Shellfish Co. “I hope our kids love the restaurant as much as we do.”
No pressure, third generation. None at all.
Atlantic City
Mimi’s Cafe
There can be transcendence in a great sandwich. At least that’s what Kevin Cronin was hoping for when, after three decades of grinding in full-service restaurant kitchens, he decided to pare back to essentials and focus on sandwichcraft at Mimi’s Café, a quirky, colorful takeout shack that doubles as a mini-art gallery for paintings by his buddy, the artist Gary Lindley, and triples as a shelter for the attendant who runs the parking lot across from the Atlantic County Courthouse where it sits. This is where Cronin, glowing from the heat of his kitchen trailer attached to the building, cooks an intriguing array of roll-busting creations inspired by the nurturing spirit of his grandma, Pat “Mimi” Senick. Growing up in Flourtown as a latchkey kid, he says, the ever-present Mimi “always made me a proper breakfast.”
And she’d certainly be proud of Mimi’s Little Monster, which seems like an entire proper breakfast stuffed into a sandwich: three eggs scrambled with a hash brown and a sausage patty, all chopped up with oozy Cooper Sharp cheese, then tucked into a long roll. Once it’s bundled inside foil, Cronin lets it steam on the back of the griddle until the roll softens and it all harmonizes into one dreamy, unified breakfast feast.
That specific sandwich was a tribute to the six-month road trip through the South that Cronin, 47, took as a much-needed career break a couple years ago. He’s worked in New York, Philadelphia, and Costa Rica, but has been a mainstay in Atlantic City kitchens such as the Iron Room, an ambitious gastropub, and more recently the Italian-inflected Rhythm & Spirits. The stress and the physical pain of kitchen work had begun to wear on him, especially with “fine dining, where everything is so acute you just focus on your mistakes.”
Launching a sandwich concept offered a less stressful and more casual reprieve for Cronin, but remains a creative outlet for a chef who revels in big flavors. There’s the SLT, a griddled scrapple sandwich on Texas Toast that’s a throwback to an Iron Room brunch favorite, and also the Banh Mimi, with pairs tender pork belly with spicy mayo, ham, pickled veggies and the option of liverwurst (oh, yes please). That tender pork belly makes another cameo in the tasty Cubano (to complete those “Chef” movie vibes).
But my second favorite sandwich here was the pot roast cheesesteak, for which the tenderly braised beef is shredded and finished on the griddle with fried onions and Cooper Sharp. I also loved Cronin’s memorably crisp chip-style fries served alongside. Next time, though, I’m going to order off the secret menu and upgrade that steak with pickles and jalapeños. If you know, you know, Cronin says: “It’s called ‘the Grandson.’”
Linwood
Sunday Gravy(plus, Superfrico at the Hook)
Chiarlanza has also relished the opportunity to return to the South Philly Italian flavors of his youth. These are the kinds of dishes his grandparents made, updated with better ingredients and precise technique. You taste that legacy in the soulfully braised meats of the signature Sunday gravy, whose airy meatballs have a secret (a lotta ricotta). There were so many other highlights: A bounty of Manila clams steeped in white wine and garlic. A creamy crab bisque so richly flavored with crushed crustacean shells, the neighboring table quite literally licked their bowls. Chiarlanza uses Severino’s fresh pastas for specialties like the ricotta-stuffed gnocchi and also an irresistible rigatoni with sausage in a spicy blush sauce.
Sunday Gravy almost always has gluten-free pasta available, but also makes an excellent creamy rice dish (not risotto) topped with big shrimp that’s gluten-free. But the dish I’ll remember most here is the massive pair of pork chops (served with a cherry pepper relish), which were incredibly tender following a two-day marinade in olive oil, garlic and rosemary.
The only real problem with Sunday Gravy is that it’s so fully booked this summer, it’s difficult to get in. Lucky for residents of this mainland town just across the bay from Margate, the Chiarlanzas are open all year. There will be plenty of tables for locals long after the hungry rush of this summer’s diners have come and gone.
