Bethany Jean Clement, who has contributed to The Stranger since 2003 and before that was managing editor of another alleged publication in Seattle, is The Stranger’s new managing editor. She’s also the sort of writer who gets letters from school teachers who use her column to teach writing. Here, for your lunchtime reading pleasure, are five of her best pieces to date.

On Digging for Razor Clams
“Copalis Beach, Washington (25 miles north of Aberdeen, population: 489), is known for two things: shipwrecks and razor clams. The most recent shipwreck, thought to be a steamer that had foundered in 1852, was discovered in 1987 where the Copalis River meets the ocean. The wreck has since disappeared and reappeared again several times, swallowed back up and regurgitated by the waters. The most recent razor-clam dig was about a week ago, in late April. The dig began before low tide in the dark around 5:30 a.m., with dawn bringing a highly unseasonable brief snowfall. Those out digging in the cold sand—mothers with toddlers in small-scale galoshes, old men of the sea with crabby expressions, out-of-towners carrying oversize buckets, one tweaker whose feet were bare but whose mind wore a protective coating of meth—took little notice of the snow.”

On the Pink Door’s 25th Anniversary Party
“A man in a tiny clown hat sliced prosciutto ceaselessly. One partygoer camped out in front of the king crab legs, eating away, prompting a certain city council member’s wife to observe, ‘It’s a buffet, not a trough.’”

On the Fireside Room at the Sorrento Hotel
“It takes concentration to discern that one side of the octagon isn’t a mirror, but a portal to the reception desk. Upholstered chairs wear stripes of varying widths and colors, while already puffy couches bear embarrassments of bonus cushions. Add some amber and white lights and a flock of poinsettias, and it’s as if you’re somehow wallowing comfortably at the bottom of your great aunt’s dish of hard candies on a low dose of a strong hallucinogen.”

On Cooking for the Holidays
“I’m not the kind of person who’d serve a pre-made holiday meal—too picky, too poor, and too morbidly curious about what’ll happen in the cooking. I first made a Thanksgiving dinner in college with my beautifully named friend Kellie Diamond; we listened to old records, called our mothers for instructions repeatedly, and drank wine from a jug all day, with far better results than anyone expected. I went to lie down postprandially—just for a minute—and woke up the next morning atop the bedclothes, still wearing my shoes.”

On the Changing Nature of Georgetown
“Georgetown is now home to both a waxing salon and an art walk, meaning the area has officially crawled out of its incubating murk, grown little flipper-feet, and is locomoting across the shore toward some terrible light. (Evidence directly outside the 9 Lb. Hammer’s door: the beautiful brick Rainier Cold Storage building, half-demolished and gaping like a wartime nightmare.) The first-ever art walk—called the Georgetown Second Saturday Art Attack (“I’m wearing a bulletproof vest,” someone joked)—was mobbed. It looked like latter-day Brooklyn.”

That’s not even counting the one that was just accepted for inclusion in Best Food Writing 2008. Many more examples of her work can be found here.