Dreams of clam strips are dancing in my head.  Tonight, I head to my Connecticut, childhood home, where I will load up on fried fish, butter-sautéed scallops, and lobster rolls .  Living in L.A., land of many flavors, I have my pick of international eats, yet I lament the lack of seafood shacks of my youth.  Sure, there's the PCH standbys, Neptune's Net and Reel Inn, and Santa Monica's BP Oysterette, but head inland and the choices are slim.  That is until Son Of A Gun came to town.