Men sometimes go a couple days without showering. If it’s a weekend, and nobody’s coming over, most men just let it go. I hate to admit this, SlimNation, but I do this maybe once a month when I’m in solitary confinement at the Fortress of Slim Solitude.Well, a couple days ago, I was tired, dead on my feet. I was starving, but I didn’t want to take a shower and go to the store; I just wanted to barricade myself in the Slim Shack and hibernate. So I took a look around to see what was available.I call this pot luck pasta. I’ve done it many times. Back when I was a starving musician, I’d take a look in the cupboard and the fridg and make a sauce of whatever I could find. Sometimes it was good. Sometimes it wasn’t.I once made a pasta sauce with Swiss cheese that was so hard to gag down that one of the guys in the band named it “Fettucine del Cemento.” Seriously.It sat in the bowl like a mound of muddy muck. It was so chewy that it could’ve pulled the fillings out of your teeth. I could have fixed the front sidewalk with it.But last night I made this pot luck pasta sauce and it was really good. You know it’s really good when you heat it up the next day and it tastes even better than the day before. And this was good, Slim People.So, taking inventory at the Slim Shack, I saw that I had some broccoli. I also had a thing of grape tomatoes. I tasted both, because if you take a taste of broccoli, for instance, and your first instinct is to spit it on the floor, you might not want to use it in your sauce.The broccoli tasted good; the grape tomatoes were some of the most delicious I’ve ever tasted. They were organic, they were not expensive, and they were so good I ate a handful right there. I just kept popping them in my tomato hole. The tomatoes were also beautiful; red, yellow, orange, green.Then, I looked in the freezer and noticed some frozen shrimp, wild. And on the refrigerator door I had about a half a glass of pinot grigio left in the bottom of a bottle, and I found a Tupperware of toasted pine nuts (pignoli) on the shelf that I had leftover from making pesto sauce.So I put them all together, and…she was a-so nice! Seriously delish and nutrish.I put it over pasta, but you can put it over bruschetta, or rice, or on a pizza. The pasta I used had a strange name that I don’t remember, it looked like penne rigate, but it had a fold running down the center. It was in a half-pound package. And it was delizioso!So, here it is. Slim’s Pot Luck Pasta without the pot. But with all the luck!Oh, and I took a shower the next day. I didn’t want you Slim People to think Uncle Slimmy had gone all raggedy on ya.
INGREDIENTS ½ pound of pasta (spaghetti or linguine work well, but use what ya gots!)Olive oil, a couple tablespoons6 large garlic cloves, smashed and peeledCrushed red pepper to taste1 cup broccoli florets (make sure the pieces are small)½ cup dry white wine¾ pound medium wild shrimp, de-shelled and de-veined2 tablespoons of butter, cut into small pieces1 cup grape tomatoes, cut in half, seeds squeezed out¼ cup toasted pine nuts (pignoli toasted in a dry pan over medium heat, shake often)OPTIONAL: freshly grated Parmigiano cheese for schprinkling, will explain later!HERE WE GO…Get a large pot, fill it full of cold water, put it on the highest heat possible. ALWAYS KEEP THE HEAT HIGH!When the water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of coarse Kosher salt.Add the pasta. Stir often. As the pasta cooks, now let’s whip up the sauce…DA SAUCEGet a large saute pan, put it over medium heat, and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil.Add the garlic cloves, let them saute a couple minutes until pale gold, then turn over and do the same to the other side. DON’T BURN YOUR GARLIC. It tastes really bitter, Slim Folks.
Add the broccoli, and give it a stir. Cook for a couple minutes until the broccoli wilts, stir often.Add the white wine, turn up the heat to high, and let the wine cook off for a minute or two.Turn the heat back to medium and add the shrimp in a single layer, sprinkle with a little salt.Let the shrimp cook for 2 minutes or so, then turn them over, sprinkle a little salt on top.Add the butter, arrange the pieces between the shrimp.Let this cook for 2 minutes or so, and then add the grape tomatoes.Give it a GENTLE stir, and let the tomaters heat up for a minute or two.REMOVE FROM HEAT, SAUCE IS DONE DA DONE DONE!The pasta? Remember that?When the pasta is al dente, firm to the bite, drain it, put it in a beautiful bowl, and drizzle with a little olive oil, give it a stir or three.Add the sauce right on top of the pasta, and give it a gentle stir.Dish it up! Put a serving in one of them expensive-looking plates, sprinkle a few pine nuts on top.Some women folk I know like to put grated Parmigiano cheese on top. Most Italians don’t do this, but if the Slim Woman wants cheese, save yourself some trouble, my Man Friends, and just shut up and grate.
MANGIAMO!
Slim Man Cooks Broccoli and Peppers
[et_pb_section admin_label="section"][et_pb_row admin_label="row"][et_pb_column type="4_4"][et_pb_text admin_label="Text" background_layout="light" text_orientation="left" use_border_color="off" border_color="#ffffff" border_style="solid"]Broccoli and PeppersMy Dad didn’t like vegetables. I’d try to get him to eat a salad and he’d say, “I’m 86-years-old! I’ve made it this far without eating that shit, and I ain’t startin’ now!”He wasn’t a warm and fuzzy guy. He’d give it to you straight, right between the eyes. But when I put this sauce over pasta, he liked it, even though it’s vegan. If I had told him it was vegan, he would have dope-slapped me on the back of the head.This sauce is easy, quick, and delizioso. You can serve it as an appetizer with crusty bread, put it over rice or pizza, or make it with pasta, like I did for my grumpy pops.INGREDIENTS4 tablespoons olive oil6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin, about 2 tablespoonsCrushed red pepper (I start with a ¼ teaspoon)¼ dry white wine (be generous, Slim People!)1 orange bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped1 red bell pepper the same way1 yellow bell pepper the same way4 cups broccoli florets¾ cup vegetable broth (or chicken broth)HERE WE GO!Get a large sauté pan, put it over medium heat.Add the olive oil, garlic, and crushed red pepper, and cook for a few minutes until the garlic is pale gold.Add the white wine, turn up the heat, cook for a minute or two.Reduce the heat to medium.Add the bell peppers, cook for 5 minutes, or until semi-soft. Stir a couple times.Add the broccoli.Add the vegetable broth, turn the heat to high until it starts to bubble.Turn the heat back down to medium.Cook for 5 or 6 minutes, or until the broccoli is done to your liking.Taste for salt and pepper and adjust. MANGIAMO!!![/et_pb_text][et_pb_video admin_label="Video" src="https://youtu.be/oeqprO0zpzw" /][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][/et_pb_section]
Slim Man Cooks Broccoli and Peppers
Broccoli and peppers and My Dad's Cell Phone
When my Dad found his dream spot on top of a mountain in the Catskills in upstate New York, there was nothing there but an empty cinder block garage with a dirt floor and an incredible view.No electricity, no running water, no phone, no nothin’.My Dad took that garage and slowly built it into quite a nice cabin. Then he built a small compound around it. He built a tiny log bunkhouse on the hill. Then he built a small barn next door with a small apartment over top. My Dad didn’t do any of the actual construction; he supervised and lent a hand.The place was called Rat Tail Ridge. Batu loved it up there. Summers were magnificent. Winters were brutal. There was so much snow on his roof in the wintertime, that my Dad had to get somebody to climb up and shovel it off so it wouldn’t cave in.
It wasn’t an easy place to get to or get out of. It was kinda isolated, especially in the winter, when you needed a front-loader to plow the driveway.In the morning, my Dad liked to drive into Meridale to the tiny post office, get his mail, and talk with the woman behind the counter. Then he’d grab the New York Times and the local paper at the small coffee shop next door and drive back to Rat Tail Ridge.Most old people drive slow. Not my Dad. He drove like he’d just robbed a 7-11. I used to jog from his house down the side of the mountain, and I could hear him a mile away, tearing up the dirt road, a cloud of dust behind him.I would dive off the side of the road, afraid he wouldn’t see me and run me over. He’d fly by without recognizing me, his head barely visible above the steering wheel. One time he drove into a snow bank. He got stuck there for a while. That was when I decided it was time to get him a cell phone.I got him in my car and we drove down to the AT&T store in Oneonta. The drive is about 40 minutes. He wasn’t pleased with the idea of getting a cell phone. It was like driving someone to get their arm amputated.AT&T is the only carrier that works up at my Dad’s place. We got to the store. My Dad wasn’t happy, at all. Keep in mind; he wasn’t a happy guy to begin with. We went up to the counter, a sales guy came over – a young kid, friendly and clean-cut. I told him what I wanted...A cell phone. One with big numbers. One that was easy to operate. I didn’t need it to make movies. I didn’t need it to tune a guitar. I didn’t need a phone that was also a microwave oven.I just wanted a simple phone for my Dad for emergencies and stuff like that. Maybe a phone where he could receive text messages and photos from his kids and grandkids. I thought that would be nice for the old grouch.The sales guy looked at me, then looked at my Dad. He cheerfully asked us if we wanted a two-year plan or a five-year plan.My Dad looked at him and said,“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I’m 86 years old! Give me the shortest plan you got, ‘cause I don’t know how much fuckin’ longer I’m gonna be around.”My Dad wasn't trying to be mean or rude. That’s just the way he talked, excuse the language. He cussed a lot and was not apologetic about it. I use it here for verisimilitude. My dad was rough, gruff and tough as iron. He never minced words, he gave it to you straight between the eyes. He was well-read, well-educated and eloquent. Poetic, even. But the “F” word in all its forms was a regular part of his daily vocabulary.I explained to the sales guy, we just need a phone with a pay-as-you-go plan. A phone that was cheap, easy, and so simple that a chimpanzee could figure it out. No offense to chimpanzees. Some of my best friends act like chimpanzees.I asked sales dude if we could get a number my Dad could remember, something like 607 S-L-I-M-M-A-N. They guy explained that there weren’t a whole lot of numbers available for that area. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he told me a number had just become available – some guy had just cancelled his service.We took that number.
We got in the car, started the long drive home, up the small, winding two-lane mountain road that led Rat Tail Ridge. My Dad held the phone in his hand, like he was holding a severed animal head in his palm.PING! My dad got a text message. He looked at me.“What the hell is that?”I grabbed the phone and looked at it. It was a photo of a woman with no clothes on.Now, I can appreciate the female form in its most natural state. Since the beginning of time, artists have been trying to capture that marvelous naked beauty on canvas and in marble.But the photo on my Dad’s cell phone was of a woman who weighed at least 400 pounds. She was completely naked, and it was hard to tell what she was doing. It looked like she was trying to scratch her head with her big toe. Not the kind of pose that would inspire Leonardo da Vinci.My Dad took the phone and looked at the photo.“Is that a vagina?”For all of my Dad’s cussing, he used delicate words when it came to the women folk.“It’s kind of hard to tell, Paps, but yes, I think it is.”A few minutes later - PING! He looked at his phone.“What the hell is that?”I grabbed his phone. I almost drove off the road. It was another photo of an incredibly large woman on her knees, completely naked, on all fours. It looked like she was looking on the floor for a contact lens.Funny, my Dad wasn’t into any of that kind of stuff. He never had girly mags around, never even had a Playboy. I never found any of that stuff around the house when I was a kid, and I rarely use the word “never.”PING!They kept coming. Text photos of huge naked women. My Dad asked if all cell phones were like this. I explained to him that the guy who had the number before was probably into some kinky stuff, and I would try and fix it when we got home.We got to Rat Tail Ridge, and I fixed his phone, blocked some numbers, cleared out some junk. I programmed some numbers on the speed dial. I explained to my Dad that all he had to do was press and hold the number "1" key, and it would call me.I set it up so number "2" was his Off-Track Betting account, so he could play the horses. Then I put in his wife’s number, my sister’s number, the other kids’ numbers, the nurse, the hospital, his proctologist and he was good to go.My Dad started enjoying his cell phone. Whenever my Dad called, he’d never say hello, how are you. He’d just start talking. Most of the conversations were quick and to the point. Then he’d hang up without saying goodbye. No hello, no goodbye.I loved my Dad even though he wasn’t an easy guy to love. We started talking on the phone, just about every day.He passed away last year. I still have his cell number on my phone.I just can’t bear to erase it.
BROCCOLI WITH RED, YELLOW AND ORANGE BELL PEPPERSMy Dad didn’t like vegetables. When he got older, I would try and get him to eat a salad, or some vegetables, and he’d say,“I’m 86 years old. I’ve made it this far without eating that shit, and I ain’t startin’ now.”He wasn’t all warm and fuzzy.This dish can be used as a side dish, or as an appetizer. You can serve it over rice, pasta, or on bruschetta. Put it on a pizza! It’s colorful, healthy and delizioso.This will serve four people, or one really huge naked woman.INGREDIENTS4 tablespoons olive oil6 cloves of garlic, sliced thin, about 2 tablespoonsCrushed red pepper (to taste--I use ¼ teaspoon to start)¼ cup dry white wine1 orange bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped1 red bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped1 yellow bell pepper, seeds and stems removed, chopped4 cups broccoli florets¾ cup vegetable broth (or chicken broth)Salt (to taste)
Here we go…Get a large pan, put it over medium-low heat.Add the olive oil, the garlic, and the crushed red pepper and cook for a couple minutes until the garlic is a light gold color.Add the white wine, turn the heat up to high, and cook for two minutes.Then reduce the heat back to medium-low.Add the peppers, and cook for 5 minutes. Stir often.Add the broccoli.Add the vegetable broth, and turn the heat to high until it starts to bubble.
Once bubbly, turn the heat down to a simmer. Cook for an additional 6 minutes until the broccoli is done. Stir often.Taste for salt and adjust.Some people like their broccoli crunchy. I like it cooked – not mushy, but firm. This dish is delish with fish—any one of the Slim Fish Dishes would go well with this. Especially Salmon Ella.
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Broccoli Rabe
Broccoli Rabe and First Slim Man TourWe left Ellicott City, Maryland, in an Isuzu Rodeo, a small SUV. It was me, drummer John E Coale, and keyboardist Rick O’Rick, AKA “Cowboy Pickles.”All three of us, our luggage and all the gear—drums, keyboards, bass amp, CDs—were crammed into the car. It was tight. You had to allow an extra 50 yards when you hit the brakes, otherwise a snare drum might smack you in the back of your cranium.It was our first Slim Man tour – the year was 1995.Our first gig was in Cleveland, Ohio. Hello, Cleveland! It was a club called Peabody’s Down Under. Why Down Under? Because we played in the basement. It was just us down there, us and the bathrooms. People stood around a circular balcony on the first floor, and looked down at us, playing in the basement. We had to look up to see the crowd.Crowd? There were about 25 people there, and after the show, a large and lovely woman came up to me and said,“You’re like Fabio…but you can sing!”We packed up the Rodeo after the show that night and drove all the way to San Francisco. It took us a couple days. We pulled up to the Great American Music Hall for sound check. I walked up to the front door, and there was a line around the block. I asked some guy waiting in line who the line was for. He said,“Slim Man.”Wow. I looked at the line and thought…all these people are coming to see me? It didn’t make me nervous — quite the opposite. I couldn’t wait to play. I was pumped up. Let me in, coach!I’m rarely nervous on stage. I’m nervous the other 23 hours of the day.We played that night to hundreds of people — it was crazy. We signed autographs afterward for what seemed like hours, and sold a ton of CDs. I hate to admit it, but it felt pretty damn good. It was OK wallowing in obscurity for all those years. But not as nice as wallowing in a brief bit of minor celebrity.We had a sax player sit in with us in San Francisco that night. We had never played with him before. We didn’t even rehearse. We didn’t have time. He showed up at soundcheck, we introduced ourselves and then did the show.But that’s the way we rolled on that first tour. We traveled as a trio. We had to – we couldn’t fit anybody else in the car! We would pick up a soloist whenever we got to town — a sax player, trumpeter, anybody. And the sax guy in San Francisco that night at the Great American Music Hall was pretty good.The next night we played in San Jose at the Ajax Lounge and everyone in the audience bought a CD. Of course, there were only six people there. Really. That was it. I remember counting them - it didn’t take long. It didn’t bother me. I was just glad to be out playing and touring.
Next it was off to Monterey. We played outside on a deck, overlooking the bay. A guy named Roger Eddy played sax — like most of the soloists who joined us on the road, it was the first time we’d ever met him. The place was small, but packed.We left Monterey and headed south. As we were driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, Rick O’Rick suddenly got violently ill. Disgusting stuff was coming out of every hole in his body. I resisted the urge to throw him out of the car at 80 MPH.We eventually made it to Viejas, a brand new Indian Casino outside of San Diego. It was so new - they were still hammering nails into the floor as we were loading in. Literally.The concert hall must have held at least a thousand people. It was beautiful – a gorgeous stage, with a big red velvet curtain, a brand new PA, and new lights. The only problem was, Rick was so sick, we had to stay with him backstage all day, right up until showtime.We had a percussionist sitting in named Michael Kelleher. We had not met Michael until that night, and I’m sure he was a bit apprehensive when he saw Rick O’Rick looking like The Alien might burst out of his chest at any second. When showtime came around, we got Cowboy Pickles propped up behind his keyboards.We all waited quietly behind the red curtain.They announced our name over the PA — “Ladies and Gentlemen, Slim Man!” The curtains slowly parted, and…There were two people there. In a place that held a thousand. There was the promo gal from the local radio station, Janet. And there was a guy standing at the bar. That was about it. Seriously. But we played our hearts out —we always do, I’m proud to say. Both people loved the show, or at least they pretended to.After the show, the guy at the bar introduced himself. Art Good. He asked us to play the Catalina Jazz Festival. That was one good thing that happened that night.The other good thing was Rick O’Rick was feeling better. Thank God, because we had to drive all the way to Kansas City the next day. Fifteen hundred miles. We made it in two days. We’re going to Kansas City. Kansas City here we come!The show was at a place called America’s Pub. We drove up, unloaded the Rodeo, did our soundcheck and went to the hotel room to shower and shave our backs.When we walked into America’s Pub in KCMO that night, the applause was deafening. It was packed to the rafters. Sold-out. Standing room only. SRO! It was one of the most amazing responses we’ve ever had. The crowd was screaming.I couldn’t tell exactly what it was they were screaming, but it seemed positive. We had a sax guy sit in that night, and of course, we had never heard him play before. He was really good, brought some of that saucy Kansas City style to the Slim Men.It was the loudest crowd I’d ever heard in my life. The whole band was on cloud nine.The next day, we drove to St. Louis—the last gig of the first Slim Tour. We pulled up to a place called Brown’s Pub and an old white guy came up to us. I have nothing against old white guys. Some of my best friends are old white guys.This old white guy was dressed like he was getting ready to play golf - with the Three Stooges in 1955. Knickers, crazy hat, bright colors and patterns. I kinda dug it. It was certainly colorful. He said,“My name is Chops. I’ll be your trombone player tonight.”
OK, Chops! We walked inside the club. The place only held about 75 people. A gorgeous gal introduced us to the crowd. She was a DJ from the St. Louis station, KNJZ, that was playing our music. The response from the crowd was like the applause you hear at a golf course. Polite.Right before we started I leaned over to Chops and said,“I’ll cue you for your solos. Don’t play over the vocals.”John E Coale counted off the first song - and Chops played non-stop from beginning to end. His trombone playing was like Dixieland meets Bugs Bunny meets Ringling Brothers. Chops could play, the only problem was…he never stopped. We finished the song, and the crowd was looking at us funny. I leaned over to Chops and whispered,“Chops! Don’t play while I’m singing!”John E counted in the second song. Chops started playing from the first beat and didn’t stop until the end of the song — the man didn’t take a breath. The crowd was looking at their watches. They were checking the exits. Even though we’d only been playing about 10 minutes, I told the crowd we were taking a break.I walked the band outside, and told Chops that it wasn’t working out, paid him in full, and he left. We went back in and continued as a trio. As we were playing, I spotted a guy in the back of the pub with a trumpet case slung over his shoulder. I called out to him, over the PA,“Hey! Can you play that thing?”The crowd turned around and looked at the guy. He came up and played. He was really good, had a Latin style that really fit well. I really liked his playing. And so did the crowd. The rest of the night was really cool, and that trumpeter really blew, so to speak.I’ve always loved the trumpet. It was my first instrument. Louis Armstrong was the reason I fell in love with music. And that trumpet player in St. Louis on the last stop of the first Slim Man Tour sounded really good. We ended the tour on a high note, so to speak.The next morning, John E, Cowboy Pickles and I packed up the Rodeo, and drove the 800 miles back to Baltimore.The trumpet player from St. Louis sent me a message on Facebook a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time I’d heard from him in 18 years. Alex Galvez is his name. He’s still playin’. So am I.BROCCOLI RABEAfter a couple weeks out on the road, there’s nothing like a little broccoli to soothe the soul.That and a bucket of whiskey!Broccoli rapini is a slightly bitter leafy broccoli, kinda like the Italian version of collard greens. Rapini comes from the Italian word rapinare, which means to rob, which may be why people sometimes call it broccoli rob (rabe).Some variations - If you like bacon (who doesn’t?) you can add a little chopped cooked pancetta (Italian bacon) when you add the Balsamic vinegar. Or, you can top off with some toasted pignoli (pine nuts). Or add some raisins at the end (I like golden raisins–they look mo’ better).IngredientsBroccoli rabe, stems trimmed, large leaves torn in half, about 8 cups trimmed4 tablespoons olive oil5 garlic cloves, sliced thinCrushed red pepper1 tablespoon balsamic vinegarKosher saltHere goes…Rinse the broccoli. Make sure it’s clean.Put a large pot of water on the highest heat you got.When it comes to a boil, add 4 tablespoons of kosher salt.Add the broccoli rabe. Cook for 2 minutes.While the broccoli is cooking, get a large bowl and fill it with ice water, or really cold water. Now back to the broccoli -After 2 minutes, drain the broccoli in a colander.
Put the broccoli in the ice water, to stop it from cooking.Drain the cooled broccoli in a colander, remove it to a plate lined with paper towels.Pat dry.Take a large pan, big enough to hold all of the broccoli rabe.Put the heat on medium-low.Add the olive oil.Add the crushed red pepper.Add the garlic, cook until pale gold about 5 minutes.Add the broccoli, stir.Add the balsamic vinegar, stir.Cook for a couple of minutes.Add salt to taste.Dish it up! This would go great with chicken Milanese, or chicken Marsala.
MANGIAMO!!!!!!