The Last Day of Summer Never Really Ends

By Chef Charles Knight

There are restaurants.

There are landmarks.

And then there are places that quietly become part of who you are.

For me, that place has always been Bahrs Landing in Highlands, New Jersey.

For more than a century, fishermen, families, vacationers, and generations of Jersey Shore visitors have found their way to Bahrs. Boats have come and gone. Storms have passed. Children have grown into grandparents.

Yet somehow, when you walk through those doors, time seems to slow down.

My story begins there in the summer of 1954.

I was seven years old.

For two wonderful weeks every summer, my parents would leave me with my Aunt Helen and Uncle Stan in Highlands. To a little boy from Rahway, New Jersey, it wasn't simply a vacation.

It was paradise.

The salty breeze blowing in from Sandy Hook.

Fishing boats rocking gently at the docks.

The cries of seagulls overhead.

The smell of the ocean mixed with weathered cedar pilings baking in the summer sun.

Back then, children didn't need entertainment.

Summer itself was enough.

We rode bicycles until dark.

We explored places adults never knew existed.

We came home hungry, sunburned, and exhausted.

Those were the kinds of summers that seemed as though they would last forever.

But they never did.

Every Summer Ends on Saturday

Every year, Saturday arrived much too soon.

It was the final day before my parents came to take me home.

There was one last trip to the boardwalk.

One last ride.

One last game.

One last chance to make summer last just a little longer.

As evening settled over the Jersey Shore, a tradition that never changed.

We went to Bahrs.

Looking back now, I realize we weren't simply going out to dinner.

We were saying goodbye to summer.

The Bowl That Became a Memory

I can still see that first bowl of chowder.

Steam curling gently into the air.

Fresh clams.

Tender potatoes.

A rich cream broth that smelled of the sea.

It wasn't fancy.

It wasn't complicated.

It was simply perfect.

Even today, after cooking professionally for more than sixty years, I still believe that great food doesn't need to impress you.

It needs to comfort you.

That chowder did exactly that.

Then Came the Oyster Crackers

But something funny happened after that first summer.

The next year...

I wasn't looking forward to the chowder.

I was looking forward to the oyster crackers.

If you're smiling right now, you understand.

Adults probably never noticed them.

Children certainly did.

Those little crackers weren't a side dish. 

They were part of the experience.

I'd eat a handful before the soup even arrived.

I'd float a few across the top.

I'd crush some between my fingers.

I'd save several for the last spoonful.

Every bowl became my own creation.

As the crackers softened, the chowder changed with them.

The broth grew richer.

The flavors came together.

Each bite tasted different from the one before.

Looking back, it wasn't really about the crackers.

It was about being seven years old.

The Last Spoonful

By the end of dinner, something had quietly changed.

The boardwalk lights were beginning to glow.

The rides had stopped.

The laughter was fading into the evening.

The magic of another summer was slipping away.

The next morning my parents would arrive.

School would soon begin.

Life would move forward.

But sitting there inside Bahrs with Aunt Helen and Uncle Stan...

...I wished time would simply stop.

Children never realize they're living the moments they'll remember forever.

Adults do.

Some Things Never Leave You

I've eaten in extraordinary restaurants around the world.

I've cooked thousands of meals.

I've written cookbooks.

I've spent my life teaching people how to cook.

Yet when someone asks me about food memories...

My mind doesn't travel to expensive restaurants.

It travels back to one table overlooking the water in Highlands.

One bowl of chowder.

One package of oyster crackers.

One little boy hoping Saturday would never end.

Some memories disappear.

Others become part of your soul.

For me...

the smell of chowder...

the sound of seagulls...

and those tiny oyster crackers...

will always taste like the last Saturday "Down the Shore."

Bahrs-Style Seafood Chowder Recipe

A Jersey Shore Classic Inspired by the Chowder I Remember at Bahrs Landing

By Chef Charles Knight

There are countless seafood chowder recipes, but the chowder I remember from Bahrs wasn't heavy or overloaded with flour. It was lighter, creamier, and let the fresh seafood shine. The oyster crackers weren't just a garnish—they were part of the experience. They slowly softened, thickening the chowder naturally with every spoonful. 

Ingredients

The Flavor Base

• 4 slices thick-cut bacon or 4 oz salt pork, diced
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 medium sweet onion, finely diced
• 2 celery stalks, finely diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced (optional)

The Broth

• 2 cups bottled clam juice
• 1 cup seafood stock or chicken broth
• 2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes
• 1 bay leaf
• ½ teaspoon dried thyme
• Freshly ground black pepper

The Seafood

• 1 pint fresh chopped clams with their juices
• 8 ounces bay scallops
• 8 ounces medium shrimp, peeled and cut into bite-size pieces
• 8 ounces firm white fish (cod, haddock, or flounder), cut into chunks

The Cream Finish

• 2 cups whole milk
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon sea salt (adjust to taste)
• Fresh cracked black pepper

To Serve

• Plenty of oyster crackers
• Fresh chopped parsley
• Paprika (optional)

Instructions

1. Build the Flavor

In a heavy stockpot, cook the bacon slowly until it renders its fat but is not overly crisp.

Add the butter, onion, and celery.

Cook gently for about 8 minutes until soft and translucent.

Add garlic during the final minute if using.

2. Build the Chowder

Pour in the clam juice and seafood stock.

Add the potatoes, bay leaf, thyme, and pepper.

Bring to a gentle simmer.

Cook 12–15 minutes until the potatoes are just tender.

3. Add the Seafood

Stir in the fish first.

After 2 minutes add the scallops.

After another minute add the shrimp.

Finally stir in the chopped clams with their natural juices.

Cook only until the shrimp turn pink and the fish flakes easily.

Do not overcook.

4. Finish the Chowder

Reduce the heat to very low.

Stir in the milk and cream.

Add Worcestershire sauce.

Season with salt and pepper.

Heat gently until steaming.

Never allow the chowder to boil, or the dairy may separate and the seafood can become tough.

The Most Important Ingredient...

Oyster Crackers

Around Bahrs, they weren't simply served alongside the chowder.

They were part of the meal.

Here's the old Jersey Shore way to enjoy them:

• Eat a handful while the chowder cools.
• Float several across the top.
• Stir a few into every few spoonfuls.
• Crush a small handful between your fingers for natural thickening.
• Save several for the very last bite.

As they slowly soften, the oyster crackers absorb the rich seafood broth and gently thicken the chowder without masking its delicate flavor.

That's how many of us remember eating chowder "Down the Shore."

Chef Charles Knight's Tip

If you have the patience, let the finished chowder rest off the heat for 15 minutes before serving. The seafood finishes cooking gently, the potatoes absorb more flavor, and the broth becomes noticeably richer.

Then set a basket of fresh oyster crackers on the table.

Don't ration them.

Half the fun is deciding how many go into the bowl.

Serves

6–8

Perfect Pairings

• Crusty sourdough bread
• Saltine crackers
• Fresh Jersey tomato slices
• Coleslaw
• Sweet iced tea or a cold root beer

"Some people remember Bahrs for the seafood. I remember it for the chowder... and those little oyster crackers that somehow made the last Saturday of every summer taste just a little bit better." — Chef Charles Knight