Slim Man Cooks Halibut with Capers, Lemon, and White WineSo…I went to house/dog sit for some friends. Their kid, a 20-year-old singer/surfer/guitar player with dreadlocks, had bought 2 pounds of fresh halibut, as in really and truly fresh, not frozen and then defrosted fresh, we’re talking fresh caught that morning.The fish was so fresh that I had to give it a cold shower.They asked me to cook. I love to cook. And I love not to cook. If someone wants to cook for me, or take me out to dinner, I’m good with that.But if people ask me to cook, I’ll cook. I don’t mind. They’re not asking me to paint their house, or tar their roof. I’m cooking dinner. So shut the hell up!So I started asking questions of my dear hosts…do you have flour? Capers? White wine? Garlic? Lemons?I went through a list of what they had, trying to figure out how I could make the halibut.There’s a chicken piccata recipe in the Slim Man Cooks cookbook. I thought, why not try it with halibut?Just for the halibut?I had everything but lemons. But I had some stashed in my bag. I carry lemons when I travel, about 4 or 5 in my bag. I drink lemon water just about every day, a couple glasses every morning, and I use fresh lemons.Plus, it makes my clothes smell oh-so nice!So I had lemons.The kid had bought 2 pounds of halibut. I’ll do this recipe for one pound; double it if you want.From the time I started, until the time it was ready to eat, we’re talking 10 minutes.KEEP IN MIND…you don't have to use garlic. My chicken piccata does not have garlic. I put garlic in with the piccata halibut, just for the halibut.Here we go:
INGREDIENTS2 tablespoons of olive oil2 tablespoons butter1 cup floursalt and fresh cracked black pepper1 pound skinless halibut filet, cut into small rectangular pieces (5”x3” or so)4 cloves of smashed garlic (garlic cloves, smashed with broad side of knife, peeled)½ cup dry white wine (room temperature)2 tablespoons capers (and their juice)The juice of one fresh, ripe lemon (a tablespoon or two) Let’s get started…Put a large sauté pan over medium-high heat.Put the olive oil and butter in the sauté pan.When the butter starts to bubble…Put the flour on a large flat plate, sprinkle with salt and pepper.Take a piece of fish, roll it around in the flour, get it coated, gently shake off the excess.Gently, you morons.Put the fish in the sauté pan, do this with all the pieces of fish.Sprinkle the tops with a LITTLE salt and pepper.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes, until the underside is golden brown.Turn all the pieces of fish over.Sprinkle the tops with a LITTLE salt and pepper.Cook on the other side until golden brown.Remove to a beautiful platter.Let’s get back to the sauté pan, the one that’s still on medium-high heat.Add the smashed garlic to the pan, swirl it around for 30 seconds.Flip it over, swirl it around on the other side for 30 seconds.Add the wine, SLOWLY, IT’S GONNA FLARE UP--try not to give yourself third-degree burns.Swish the wine around. CAREFULLY!Add the capers. Swish and swirl for 30 seconds.Add the fresh-squeezed lemon juice, make sure you don’t let any seeds get through!Swirl and swish for 30 seconds.Remember the flour? The flour you dusted the fish with?Take a pinch or two of that, whisk it into the garlic/wine sauce.Keep taking a pinch of the flour, and whisking, until the sauce becomes more like a light…gravy.Pour the sauce over the fish.Garnish with lemon wedges, and maybe a sprig of parsley, and…MANGIAMO!
Slim Man Cooks Chicken Piccata
Chicken Piccata and Hobnobbin’ with Slim Slimski
Follow a transvestite while he/she shops for clothes. Go to an underground tattoo parlor, get a tattoo, then go to a dermatologist and get it removed with a laser.Those are just a few of the episodes we did for a TV show called Hobnobbin’ With Slim Slimski.Rei Spinnicchio was the director. He was the cameraman. He was also the editor, the light guy, the sound guy. He was the guy. The guy behind the camera. I was the guy in front of the camera. It was just the two of us, thinking up wacky segments to shoot.We would then go around our hometown of Baltimore, Maryland, and film these episodes. Most of the stuff was completely spontaneous. Well, we’d make appointments; but what we did when we got there was just run and gun — improvise, see what happens. No script. It was a lot of fun. Nerve-wracking fun.Rei had the idea to follow a transvestite while he/she shopped for clothes. "He" was a man, dressed as a woman. He called himself Marilyn. Most of the clothes shops we visited were in Fells Point, which is a funkified neighborhood deep in the heart of Baltimore. Marilyn seemed to like biker clothes—black leather motorcycle jackets, things like that. A man, dressed as a woman, shopping for biker clothes.In another episode, we went to an underground tattoo parlor. It was in this guy’s kitchen, in his small apartment, in a nasty section of town. Strange-looking folks were waiting around to get tattoos. It wasn’t the cleanest place in the world and he was making some of the most bizarre tattoos I’ve ever seen.Of course, I got one. The tattoo guy asked me what I wanted. I asked for a simple heart with “Mom” in the middle, on the inside of my forearm.I got tattooed. The guy didn’t use any ink—he must have run out! So I felt the pain, but got no stain. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Even without the ink, you could clearly see the tattoo. The skin was raised and red and it looked like I had been branded with a branding iron.I showed my Mom and she thought it was real. Then she hit me in the head with a frying pan.Just kidding. How could she be mad? I got “Mom” tattooed on my arm!I went to the dermatologist soon after to see what it was like to get a tattoo removed. I wasn’t the first in line. There was a woman before me who wanted to get a big eagle tattoo removed from her chest. She was complaining that the wings of the eagle looked like chest hair when she wore low-cut shirts.The dermatologist let Rei and I sit in on her tattoo removal. We all had to wear special goggles, so the laser wouldn’t fry our eyeballs. We looked like mad scientists. The doctor placed the laser pen on her tattoo and zapped. She flinched, like she’d just been Tasered. He put the pen back on the tattoo and zapped. She flinched again. He’d zap, she’d flinch, dozens of times - it went on way too long, like a torture session. She looked like she was having some kind of strange conniptions every couple seconds.
Rei and I were filming and watching all this play out with our mad scientist goggles on. I wanted to jump in, wave the white flag, blow the whistle, toss in the towel, call off the dogs.The doctor finally relented. The woman got out of her chair. The tattoo was still visible. Doctor Dude told us that a tattoo that big and dark would need a couple of sessions to remove. The gal didn’t look too happy. Plus, she had to pay for all this. She zombie-walked out of there.I sat down in the chair. The doctor revved up the laser and zapped me. It didn’t hurt as much as the time I got my genitalia caught in my zipper, but it was close. The laser hurt more than getting the tattoo. After a bunch of zaps, my skin was on fire. I would have confessed to anything, just to make it stop.No wonder that poor woman was flailing around like that.For another episode of Hobnobbin’ With Slim Slimski, we went to the Timonium Fairgrounds for the 4H festival. 4H stands for Head, Heart, Health, and Hands. It’s a collection of young folks trying to improve urban, suburban and rural communities.I walked into a large barn, with Rei following and filming. Some of these young folks were demonstrating how to milk a cow.I like farm animals. They look OK from a distance. But I’ve never felt the strong urge to get real close to any of them, let alone start mangling their mammaries. The cow they wanted me to milk was named Leslie. Really.I walked up to Leslie and sat down on a stool by her rear legs. She turned her huge head around and stared me up and down with these big dark eyeballs. I looked her in the eye, and then looked down at her udders and…It was a little too soon for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s more appropriate to go out on a few dates, have some drinks, get to know a female before you start yanking on her breastages.Then Leslie winked. I think she liked me. I liked her, too. But sadly, that was the end of our relationship. I walked away, knowing I did the honorable thing.The highlight of the 4H festival was Rei following me around, cameras rolling, as I walked among the fairgrounds, checking out the games; you know the kind - games where you throw a hardball and try to knock down some pins, or you try to shoot a basketball into a hoop a million times in a row or you throw darts at balloons or toss Ping-Pong balls into small gold fish bowls.If you win, they give you prizes, like huge stuffed animals. Those kinds of games.As we were checking out the games, I walked by a dunking booth. Let me explain the dunking booth. A guy sits in a chair over a pool of water. There is a target over his head. You buy three hardballs, and if you hit the target, the guy gets dunked in the water.This guy was hurling insults at people as they passed by. Calling people all kinds of nasty names. As I walked by, the guy got quiet. Then, all of a sudden I heard…“Hey, you! Donkey Face!”
That’s what he said. Donkey Face. I kept walking. I had long hair in a ponytail. The guy kept shouting,“Hey you! Donkey Face! With the ponytail! You can’t cut off that pony tail ‘cause it goes with your donkey head!”That’s what he said.I stopped walking.“That’s right! Donkey Face! I’m talkin’ to YOU! Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!”He kept chanting.“Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!!”A crowd started to gather. That made him scream louder.“Uno, dos, tres, come on, hit me Donkey Face!”I calmly walked over to the booth and bought three balls. He kept chanting. I reared my arm back and threw as hard as I could. I nailed the target with the first throw. Bulls-eye. He fell in the water with a huge splash.But the damage was done. When my friends and family saw that video footage, they didn’t say, “That’s not funny. That guy was way out of line. Glad you nailed him.”No. Instead, they started calling me Donkey Face. Not behind my back. Right in front of my face. Friends, band members, and family. My own father called me Donkey Face.Not all the time.Just most of the time.Rei and I pitched the Hobnobbin’ with Slim Slimski TV show around to whoever would look. We had a couple of people interested. And then, suddenly nothing happened. I guess we were way ahead of our time. Again.
CHICKEN SLIMMATA PICCATAAfter clothes shopping with a transvestite, there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal. This dish is perfect after a long day at work.I began with 3 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts that were a little too thick for this dish. So I cut them in half, and it worked out fine.INGREDIENTS6 chicken cutlets, each about 1/2 inch thick½ cup flourSalt and pepper2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil2 tablespoons butter¼ cup white wine½ cup chicken broth2 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice (no seeds!)2 tablespoons capersA few sprigs of parsley for garnish
Here we go…Heat your oven to warm (the lowest setting).Rinse off your chicken breasts and pat dry with a paper towel.Put the flour on a flat plate. Add salt and fresh cracked black pepper.Take a chicken cutlet, put it in the flour. Turn it over. Make sure both sides are lightly coated. Shake off any excess flour.Repeat with all 6 pieces of chicken.Put the oil and butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. When the butter starts to bubble, put the chicken in the pan.Cook for 3 minutes or until golden brown on the underside. Use your tongs and turn them over.Cook for 3 minutes on the other side. Check for doneness. If done, place them on a plate and set them in a warm oven. If not, cook for another minute or so until done, then place them in the oven.Turn the heat on the empty sauté pan to medium-high. Add the white wine and stir and scrape (deglaze the pan) for a minute or so.Add the chicken broth and capers. Cook while stirring for a minute or two.Add the lemon juice and cook and stir for a minute or two.Take your breasts out of the warm oven. Place them on a nice platter. Pour a little sauce over each breast, garnish with lemon and parsley, and…
MANGIAMO!!!!!
Swordfish with Shallots, Capers and White Wine
I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland, about three miles from Memorial Stadium. That’s where the Baltimore Orioles played baseball. It’s where the Baltimore Colts played football.My brother and I were crazy about the Orioles and Colts. Our uncle Oscar loved the Colts, took us to lots of games when we were kids. Fans at football games can get a bit rowdy. If you’re a 10 year-old, it’s good to have a sleeve to hang on to. Especially a sleeve connected to a guy like Oscar.But baseball? It’s a bit gentler, safer for a kid. In the summertime, my brother and I would go to Orioles games by ourselves. We’d get to the stadium anyway we could; walk, ride a bike, take the bus. We’d get there early, so we could catch batting practice. We’d stand out in the left-field bleachers with our gloves, two raggedy young kids, hoping to snag a batting practice home run. Or a foul ball. Or maybe a pitcher in the bullpen would throw us a ball. Anything.My brother and I collected Orioles baseball cards. We belonged to the Junior Orioles. When we played baseball in the backyard, we’d take the names of our favorite O’s players. My brother wanted to be called “Brooks” after Brooks Robinson (third base). I wanted to be Paul Blair, a black centerfielder. He was my favorite player. Paul Blair once threw me a baseball after I screamed “Hey, Paul, throw me a ball!” about 300 times during batting practice.Section 9 was our spot for baseball in Memorial Stadium—the outfield bleachers. There were rows of yellow aluminum benches with no backs and no padding; when the weather was hot, it was like sitting on a stove, when it was cold, it was like sitting on a block of ice. It didn’t matter to us. We loved the O's.
My brother and I played little league baseball for years. My brother was really good; he got all the trophies. I wasn’t any good, but I loved playing. I still like throwing a ball around. I really like batting cages. You stand in a fenced-in cage, and a pitching machine throws baseballs at you, and you try and hit them with your bat.My Dad lived in upstate New York. Cooperstown—where the Baseball Hall of Fame is—is not far away. My Dad was an extra in a Tom Hanks baseball movie—A League of Their Own—that was filmed on the baseball field in Cooperstown. I’ve been to Cooperstown a couple of times, it’s a great place to visit if you’re a baseball fan. They’ve got batting cages—I tried the pitching machine that threw knuckleballs, and I didn’t hit one good ball.The next time I stepped into a batting cage, I hit two good balls.My band BootCamp was playing in a rock club in Ocean City, Maryland, one summer and there was a batting cage in an amusement park right behind the club. The afternoon before our Big Show, the drummer, Hit Man Howie Z, and our friend Roger—who would later name his only son Brooks—went down to the batting cage. We three were the only ones there.All I had on was a thin, baggy, nylon bathing suit and a T-shirt. It was the beach, it was summer. I grabbed a bat, put my money in the machine and stepped into the cage. This was hardball; I was staring at an 80 mile per hour fastball machine. I stood next to home plate, bat poised, waiting for the first pitch. It catapulted out of the machine, and screamed towards me.I swung, and hit the ball with all my might. The ball shot straight down, hit home plate, and shot straight up like a rocket and hit me squarely in the you-know-whats.I hit the ground like a sack of cement. I curled up in the fetal position, racked in pain, breathless. Fastballs were screaming over my head, smacking into the backboard, and bouncing all around. Hit Man and Rog were trying to grab me in between pitches, trying to avoid getting hit by 80 mph fastballs. My legs wouldn’t uncurl. They eventually dragged me—still curled up tight in the fetal position—by my feet, out of harm’s way.The BootCamp show that night was not as lively as usual. I sang while standing in one spot, all night long. I couldn’t move. But I did hit some high notes I’d never hit before.In 1983, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Colts football team. A couple months later, the Colts moved to Indianapolis. I hope our rendition of the Star Spangled Banner didn’t affect their decision. I thought we sounded great.In 1986, BootCamp sang the national anthem at Memorial Stadium for the Baltimore Orioles baseball team. Earl Weaver, their long-time manager, retired a couple weeks later. I was starting to think maybe I was a jinx.In 1992, the Orioles moved from Memorial Stadium to a new ballpark in the heart of downtown Baltimore—probably to get rid of the jinx. The new stadium was called Orioles Park at Camden Yards, and it was and is a beauty.In 1995, I released the first Slim Man CD, End of the Rainbow. I wanted to take a copy to my dentist, who was also a friend. Going to his office was like going to the Playboy Mansion; all the assistants looked like Playboy Bunnies and he was like Hugh Hefner—I think he even dressed in silk pajamas and ascots rather than scrubs and a mask.I drove to downtown Baltimore, parked in an underground lot, and got in a limited access elevator--it only went to the top two floors. Guess who got in right behind me? Cal Ripken, Jr., shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles. Rookie of the Year, 1982. Most Valuable Player, 1983—when the Orioles won the World Series. I’d seem him play hundreds of times, but had never met him. I introduced myself, told him I was a big fan. Cal Ripken, Jr. shook my hand. I gave him the End of the Rainbow CD that I was saving for my dentist. I told Cal it was my first CD; he gave it a look, and thanked me.About five years later, the Orioles asked me to sing the national anthem at Orioles Park. I guess they were desperate. I’m a patriot. I love the USA. And singing the anthem is an honor, plain and simple.I practiced “The Star-Spangled Banner” day and night for weeks. My neighbors probably thought I was either really crazy or really patriotic. Or both. I tried singing the anthem every way I could. I sang it slow. I sang it fast. I sang it half-fast, which is the way I normally sing.The day finally arrived. I got to Camden Yards that September evening, 2000, and a young woman from the Orioles office led me on to the field. The sky was cloudy, it looked like it might rain. Hit Man was with me, so was Roger. So was Griff, the guy who signed me to Motown—he’s a huge baseball fan. My Mom, in her wheelchair, was in the stands nearby. She was also a big Orioles fan, used to listen to the games on the radio in the kitchen at Rosebank.
The players were standing by. I walked up to the microphone at home plate, the crowd stood on their feet, hats off, hands on hearts. The announcer introduced me, and I started singing. I did the “Star Spangled Banner” Slim Man style—low and slow. The woman who had led me on the field kept waving her arms in a circle, motioning for me to speed it up. She looked like a third base coach waving a runner home.But, like Frank Sinatra, I did it my way.I thought it sounded good. Nobody booed and nobody left, which to me is a successful gig. The anthem is not an easy song to sing. At least I remembered all the words. When I finished, I walked by Cal Ripken Jr., who was warming up outside the dugout. I was hoping he’d come up to me, give me a high five and say, “Slim Man! That CD you gave me in the elevator is incredible."He didn’t. But he did smile and shake my hand and say, “Nice job" as I walked by.Then I started thinking…was he talking about my version of the anthem? Or the End of the Rainbow CD? He probably meant both. Right?Swordfish with Capers and Shallots
A couple things…before you buy or cook your fish, take a sniff. It should smell like the sea. Fresh. Your nose knows. When in doubt, throw it out.Swordfish sometimes has small, dark areas. I cut these out. They tend to taste really fishy. You can use any firm-fleshed white fish — halibut, sea bass, or grouper.Cooking times are always approximate. The thicker the fish, the longer it takes.Serves 3Ingredients3 pieces of swordfish, about a half pound each, about an inch thick, skin removed1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil1 tablespoon butterFlour (a ¼ cup should do)2 tablespoons minced shallots2 tablespoons capers, plus a tablespoon of their juice2 tablespoons chopped Italian flat leaf parsley¼ cup dry white wineSalt and pepper to tasteHere we go…Rinse off the fish, and pat dry with paper towels. Sometimes frozen fish retains water, so pat dry until the paper towel is not damp.Heat your oven to the lowest possible temperature, which is usually 170 degrees. The oven at Slim’s Shady Trailer Park has a “keep warm” setting that works nicely.Heat the olive oil and the butter over medium-high heat in a sauté pan, big enough for all 3 pieces of swordfish. Let the olive oil and butter heat until the butter starts to bubble, about 2 minutes.While it’s heating, put some flour on a plate. Add salt and pepper to the flour, mix it up.Press each piece of fish into the flour, lightly coating each side. Lightly!Put each piece of swordfish in the pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes, depending on the thickness (thicker pieces take longer). Grab your tongs. Turn the fish over. Swirl the olive oil and butter in the bottom of the pan before you put the fish back in. You don’t want to put it in a dry pan.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes.Remove the fish to a plate. Put it in the warm oven.Add the chopped shallots to the pan (the one you cooked the swordfish in), cook for 30 seconds or more until golden brown.
Add the capers and their juice, cook for 30 seconds or more. Then add the parsley and white wine, and cook for 2 minutes.Turn off the heat under the pan.Remove the fish from the oven. Put it in the pan for a quick minute, then, dish it up! Put each piece of swordfish on a plate.Pour a little sauce over top of each piece of swordfish.Add a circular slice of lemon (remove the seeds), and a sprig of fresh Italian parsley. My incredible Italian kale recipe goes well alongside this fish dish, or maybe my amazing spinach and almonds recipe. Or perhaps Uncle Slimmy’s rock ‘em, sock ‘em broccoli and peppers? Yes indeedy!
MANGIAMO!!!!!!