I have a thing for chowder.
I am lucky that my mother-in-law lives year-round on Cape Cod: we visit there several times a year and I get to eat some of the best clam chowder—or as we say in some parts of New England, clam chowdah. (She’s in Massachusetts, after all.) In Maine, where I lived until recently, I consumed gallons of chowder in varying forms—clam chowder, corn chowder, seafood chowder, the list goes on.
