Once again, I was faced with the dilemma...how can I prepare salmon in a new way?Lady Peoples, they love salmon. I once went out with a girl who ate salmon so often, grizzly bears tried to attack her when we went to the zoo.Trying to find a new way of cooking salmon can be a challenge. I’ve baked it, seared it, broiled it, grilled it, poached it…I was running out of ways to cook it! So I thought maybe I’d sear it, just the top, and then steam it.I saw a recipe that included Dijon mustard. I like Dijon mustard. I mean, I don’t eat spoonfuls out of the jar, but as far as condiments go, I like it.But on a piece of fish? I had my doubts. But I thought I’d try it, and see what it was like.It was good! There’s just a teaspoon, so it’s not overwhelming. And it was really subtle. If you didn’t know there was Dijon in the sauce, you might not have detected it.
I used Wild Alaskan King salmon. It was thick and fresh and about $11 a pound, which is about half of what you normally pay. The filets I got were about an inch thick.You can use halibut, or any firm-fleshed thick fish. Thinner fish won’t work.I really like this dish. When you cook/sear/braise the top of the salmon first, it gets a nice crispness. Then when you steam it over the leeks, it stays really moist inside. It’s a nice contrast, the crispness of the top, and the steaminess of the rest.
I’ve always liked the french-fried onions that come in a can that you use over string beans at Thanksgiving. I thought they might go well on top of the salmon. But I wanted to make them myself. So I took some slivered leeks, and fried them in some butter and olive oil until golden.Wow. They were good. They tasted great, just a few on top of the salmon at the very end. I made a little teepee, and it looked cool, and tasted great.Leeks...they’re dirty! Make sure you clean them real good. And cut off the root at the end, and cut off the 
dark green parts/leaves on top. The dark green leaves are tough like shoe leather! So just use the pale green and white parts of the leeks.INGREDIENTS1 cup leeks, white and pale green parts only, cleaned thoroughly and cut into matchstick slivers½ cup leeks, the same way (these are for garnish)¼ cup of flour4 tablespoons butter3 tablespoons olive oilSalt and pepperTwo 8-ounce Wild Alaskan King Salmon filets, about an inch thick each1 teaspoon Dijon mustard¾ cup dry white wine1 tablespoon lemon juice, fresh squeezed2 tablespoons fresh Italian parsley, choppedHERE WE GO!Let’s fry some leeks first. We will use these on top of the salmon, at the very end.Put a small sauté pan over medium-high heat.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and let them heat up!Put the flour on a plate.Take the ½ cup of leeks, and add them to the flour and mix.Pick up the leeks, let the excess flour shake off, and put them in the pan.When the edges of the leeks turn pale gold, a minute or two, turn them over.Cook them on the other side until pale gold.Remove to a plate lined with a paper towel, and add salt and pepper.Don’t throw out the flour yet!And now for the salmon…Sprinkle the tops of each salmon filet with some Kosher salt. Mazel tov!Put 2 tablespoons of butter and 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat.When the butter melts and bubbles, add the salmon, skin side up.Cook for 3 or 4 minutes.
Remove the salmon to a large plate.To the sauté pan, add the final 1 tablespoon of butter, 1 cup of slivered leeks, the mustard, and some Kosher salt.Stir gently and cook for 3 minutes, until leeks are soft.Add wine, and let it cook off for a minute or two.Add the salmon to the pan, skin/raw side down, right on top of the leeks.Cover and simmer for 8 minutes, or until done (pale pink in the middle, and slightly flaky).Remove the salmon to two gorgeous plates.Add the lemon juice and parsley to the pan.Add a touch of flour, and stir gently.Taste for salt and pepper and adjust.Pour a little sauce over each salmon filet. Add some crispy leeks on top, like a teepee.
MANGIAMO!
Slim Man Cooks Roasted Vegetable Lasagna
On Christmas Day, 1999, I sang for Pope John Paul II at the Vatican.When you read that first line, you might get the impression that I was strumming my guitar at the Pope’s bedside, singing Christmas songs as he dozed off to sleep.That ain’t what happened.A friend of mine called from LA. She was putting a choir together to sing two pieces of music written for Pope John Paul II. She was familiar with my music, and thought I might like to be included as a vocalist. Yes, indeed!Both pieces were going to be performed at the Vatican on Christmas Day, 1999, the last Christmas of the 20th century. She asked me to be in the choir, to sing for the Pope.You can’t say “nope” to the Pope.I drove over to my uncle Oscar’s house, not far from my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. I told him what was going on – I was flying to Rome for Christmas to sing for the Pope. He was so happy, you would have thought I’d just cured erectile dysfunction.Oscar insisted on paying for my hotel as a Christmas gift. He wanted me to stay at the Excelsior, a swanky, luxurious, elegant hotel in the heart of Rome. Fellini shot part of a movie there, La Dolce Vita.A few days before Christmas, I flew to Rome. I had never been before. When I checked into the hotel, I was dazzled. It was beautiful. Elegant. I didn’t get to see much of the hotel, though. Most of my days were spent at rehearsals. The two pieces of music we were doing for the Pope were called “Magnificat” and “cantata Giubileo.”“Magnificat,” was written by Beppe Cantarelli, an Italian guy who had written songs for Aretha and Mariah Carey. “Magnificat” is truly magnificent, one of my favorite pieces of choral music.“cantata Giubileo” was written by Maurice Jarre, a pretty famous and serious film composer. He won three Academy Awards for the music he wrote for Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, and A Passage to India.Giubileo is the Italian word for “Jubilee.” Every 25 years, the Roman Catholic Church celebrates Giubileo. Cantare is the Italian word for “sing.” In other words, “cantata Giubileo” was supposed to be a joyous piece of vocal music.It was a difficult piece of music – difficult to sing and difficult to like. There were so many key changes, time signature changes, and tempo changes. To top it off, the choir had to sing the word “peace” in 33 different languages.I like to joke a lot. But I ain’t kidding, Maurice wanted us to learn how to sing “peace” in 33 languages. There were about 50 people in the choir, men and women, mostly from LA; a mixed bag of gospel singers, pop singers, R&B singers, and one lonely jazz guy - me. We were called the Millennium Choir.We rehearsed in the Sala Nervi, the concert hall that had just been built next to St. Peter’s Basilica. Sala Nervi was amazing. The acoustics, the mile-high ceilings, the marble floors, the masses of stained glass – they didn’t get this stuff at Home Depot. Sala Nervi was really and truly stunning.The orchestra was down in front in the pit. The choir was on stage in a semi-circle, on raised stands. I stood next to a well-dressed black guy, who introduced himself as Darryl Phinnesse. His claim to fame was that he had written the lyrics to the theme song for the TV show Fraser.I always wondered about the lyric in that song “tossed salads and scrambled eggs.” I asked Darryl about it. He explained that “tossed salads and scrambled eggs” meant crazy people, people who were mixed up.I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it.Rehearsals for “Magnificat” were magnificent. The choir, the orchestra — everybody connected with that piece of music in a big way. It sounded glorious. To sing that incredible song, with a full choir and orchestra, in that amazing hall - I could have sung it a hundred times in a row.But “cantata Giubileo”? Both the choir and orchestra were having a tough time. Even when we got it right, it didn’t sound right – it sounded like an orchestra tuning up. Cacophonous.Maurice Jarre was not happy. He didn’t look like a real happy guy to begin with.One night, after rehearsal, I was at the hotel bar in the Excelsior, singing “Blue Christmas”, when a very stylish Italian guy came over and told me he liked my voice, told me I sounded like Elvis. I had been studying Italian for months. I knew enough to get around, especially when someone was talking about The King.He asked me my name. I was gonna say Slim Man, but I told him my real name. When he heard me say “Camponeschi” his eyes lit up. He told me about Ristorante Camponeschi in Rome. He told me I had to go there. He introduced himself. Federico.Federico called me in my room the next morning to tell me he had made a reservation. Which was very nice - a little bit strange, but nice. How did he find out which room I was in? I thanked him, hung up, and promptly forgot about it. I showered, dressed, and got in a taxi. I told the cab driver to take me to the Vatican. When he asked me why I was going there, I told him I was going to sing for the Pope. He laughed. I guess it did sound like a joke.Rehearsal that day was no joke. “cantata Giubeleo” was still not sounding right. Maurice worked us hard. Towards the end of the long day, Maurice stopped the choir to yell at us. He was a fiery Frenchman, and he wasn’t happy with the way his masterpiece was sounding.In the middle of his hollering, I noticed a guy walking across the marble floor. He was about 100 yards away, but you could hear his footsteps echo in the hall, getting louder as he got closer.The guy stopped next to Maurice Jarre. He was dressed in a suit and tie with overcoat. He looked like a hit man. Maurice stopped yelling.The guy said, to no one in particular, that he was looking for Signore Camponeschi. I looked around. There were no other Camponeschis. I raised my hand. He motioned for me to go with him. I had no idea what was going on. Maybe the Pope wanted me to make him some meatballs.The orchestra, the choir, Maurice - everyone stood and stared in silence as I stepped down from the choir stand, walked off the stage, and followed the guy out of the Sala Nervi, our footsteps fading in the grand hall. We walked outside and the guy opened the back door of a Mercedes limo. I got in.I knew he wasn’t gonna kill me — he wouldn’t have abducted me in front of 100 witnesses if he were. But I was a bit curious as to where I was going. When I’d ask, he’d say “Camponeschi.”Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of the French Embassy. I was really confused, until I saw a sign across the street from the Embassy. Ristorante Camponeschi. We walked in.I couldn’t have had a better reception if I were the Pope. They had everything but a brass band playing the national anthem. Alessandro Camponeschi and his Dad, Marino, owned the place, and they greeted me with hugs, and treated me like a long lost son.My grandfather, Romollo Camponeschi, was born in Rome. It's quite possible that Alessandro and I might be related. But what a welcome, regardless.Ristorante Camponeschi is very elegant. Alessandro and Marino wouldn’t let me order from the menu. I must have had 100 courses. They brought soups, salads and appetizers, lobsters, champagne and desserts as well as flaming liqueurs.When your name is Slim Man, it’s not a good thing to stuff yourself like I did.After dinner, I gave a warm goodbye to Alessandro and Marino. The Mercedes limo was waiting for me outside. He gave me a quick ride back to the Excelsior. I thanked him, walked inside, and went to sleep.I found out the next day that Federico had made all the arrangements – the limo pick-up from the Vatican, the dinner, the limo ride home. All because he liked the way I sang “Blue Christmas.” Long Live The King!On Christmas morning, I got all dressed up in my tuxedo. It took me a while to get my bow tie tied – I didn’t want to use a clip-on for the Pope! I caught a cab to the Vatican, and got ready for the Big Show. We took the stage, the lights went dim and…The concert was amazing. The choir sounded great, so did the orchestra, and it all went really well — both pieces of music sounded exquisite. I was concentrating so hard on the sheet music, on getting everything right, that I really didn’t have time to look around, and soak it all in.I didn't even notice where Pope John Paul was sitting. He could have started a mosh pit and I wouldn’t have noticed.But after the concert, as I walked by, the Pope gave me a chest bump and a high five, and let me try on his hat.Just joking. Lord, forgive me!After the concert, I walked out of the Sala Nervi into the chilly Christmas night and it was breathtaking. The streets of Rome were jam-packed with people, the church bells were ringing, voices were singing, the Christmas lights were twinkling, all the streetlamps were decorated, and it was glorious.Absolutely glorious.Roasted Vegetable Lasagna
I wanted to make a lasagna that was…Slim, so to speak. So I skipped the ricotta cheese, and just roasted some vegetables.The first time I cooked this I used no-cook lasagna noodles in a 9x13 dish. The lasagna fit in the dish perfectly, but I didn’t like ‘em. I know a lot of people use them. To me, no-cook lasagna don’t taste right.I really prefer to boil the lasagna the old school way. In boiling water. What a concept. I boiled my lasagna noodles according to the instructions on the package, and they turned out so nice! It didn’t add any additional time, I cooked the lasagna noodles as the vegetables roasted.I used an 8x11 glass baking dish, because the traditional lasagna noodles fit perfectly in there. I used 9 sheets of lasagna--3 layers of 3.I was gonna cook a tomato sauce for this, but then, in a stroke of genius, I decided to do a no-cook tomato sauce. When I usually cook a tomato sauce, I cook it for 25 minutes.I figured, the tomato sauce was gonna bake in the oven with the lasagna for 25 minutes anyway, why cook the sauce beforehand. Capisce?It saved a lot of time and effort, but the best thing about this no-cook tomato sauce? It tasted so fresh. Funky fresh!You’ll need 3 generous cups of tomato sauce. You can use bottled sauce, but my no-cook tomato sauce takes no time!I found some organic mini-bell peppers on sale. They were beautiful--red, yellow and orange and added a nice color and flavor to this dish. If you can’t find mini-bell peppers, you can use a regular orange, yellow or red bell pepper, or a combination of all three. Whatever combination you use, you’ll need to end up with a cup and a half, chopped.I found some multi-colored heirloom grape tomatoes on sale. They, too, were colorful and delizioso. And not expensive. I cut them in half, squeezed the seeds out, and they worked perfectly.Cippolini onions are sweeter and milder than normal onions. They’re good for roasting, and you can find them in normal grocery stores. If you can’t find cippolini onions, use shallots instead.I always clean my vegetables. I clean everything. You gotta keep it clean, Slim People.INGREDIENTS
For the lasagna:3 cups (2 medium) zucchini cut in ¼ inch circular slices1 ½ cups small cippolini onions (6), peeled and quartered1 ½ cups red, yellow and orange bell peppers, cored, seeded, cut into 1-inch pieces5 tablespoons olive oil4 cups (8 ounces) sliced portobello mushroom caps, 1/8 inch thick, cut into 1-inch pieces3 cups (2 small) yellow squash cut in ¼ inch circular slices3 cups grape tomatoes, cut in half, insides/seeds squeezed out1 package lasagna noodles (at least 9 sheets)¼ cup basil, loosely packed, snipped with scissors or chopped gently—it bruises!1 pound (or more!) mozzarella cheese, you’ll need 1 ½ cups shredded, plus 12 circular ¼ inch slices½ cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseKosher salt and fresh cracked black pepperINGREDIENTSFor the no-cook tomato sauce:1 twenty-eight ounce can crushed Italian tomatoes (San Marzano are best, $3.99 a can)1 tablespoon minced garlic¼ cup basil leaves, loosely packed, snipped with scissors or chopped gently!½ teaspoon kosher salt¼ teaspoon crushed red pepperCombine all the ingredients, stir, set aside. Taste for salt and pepper and adjust. This should make about 3 or 4 cups. How easy was that?Here we go…Pre-heat your oven to 400 degrees.Put your zucchini, onion and peppers in a bowl, drizzle with a tablespoon or two of olive oil, add some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper, and toss.Get a large metal baking pan, line it with aluminum foil. Add the zucchini and onions and peppers to the pan.Put your portobello mushrooms and yellow squash in the bowl. Add a tablespoon or two of olive oil, some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper, and toss.Get another large metal baking pan, line it with aluminum foil. Add the portobello mushrooms and yellow squash to the pan.Put both pans in the oven, as close to the middle as possible, and roast for 25 minutes. As the vegetables roast…Take your 2 cups of halved grape tomatoes, put them in a bowl. Add a tablespoon of olive oil, some kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper and toss. Set aside.Now, for the lasagna noodles. Get a large pot, fill it full of cold water, put it on the highest heat ya got. When it comes to a full boil, add 2 tablespoons kosher salt and the lasagna noodles.Cook the lasagna noodles according to the directions on the package. I followed the instructions on a package of Barilla lasagna, I cooked them for 7 minutes.Keep an eye on these guys, make sure they don’t stick together. People should stick together, lasagna shouldn’t. Use tongs. Be gentle. Be kind. But you gotta keep ‘em separated.When the lasagna noodles have cooked according to the instructions, drain gently.I used an 8x11 glass baking dish. The lasagna noodles fit perfectly.Put a generous cup of uncooked tomato sauce in the bottom, spread around evenly.Add 3 pieces of lasagna, lay like shingles, overlapping—just a touch!Add the roasted zucchini, peppers and onions.Add a cup of tomato sauce.Add ¾ cup shredded mozzarella, spread evenly and judiciously.Add 3 more pieces of lasagna, layering like shingles.Add the roasted yellow squash and portobellos. Spread ‘em out even.Add a cup of tomato sauce, spread evenly.Add ¾ cup of shredded mozzarella, evenly—capisce?Add another layer of lasagna noodles, 3, lay ‘em down like shingles.Add the halved-tomatoes, distribute evenly. Any part of the lasagna noodles that are exposed, rub with a little olive oil from the bowl that held the tomatoes. This will help keep the noodles from drying out.Stick the baking dish in the oven on the middle rack for 25 minutes.After 25 minutes, remove from the oven.
Sprinkle the ¼ cup of basil leaves on top of the tomatoes. Add the slices of mozzarella, make sure you cover all the tomatoes.Top off with the grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.Turn the oven to broil. Put the lasagna in the oven and KEEP AN EYE ON THESE GUYS. Don’t burn the cheese. You want it to get golden brown. It should only take a MINUTE OR TWO.Maybe three…When the mozzarella is golden and bubbly, remove. Let it sit for 10 minutes.Dish it up! Make it look nice. Sprinkle with some snipped basil leaves, maybe some grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. She’s a-so nice!
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Spinach with Toasted Almonds and Raisins
A lot of people ask me to sing at their weddings. My answer is usually,“Yes. Yes I can.”I love singing at weddings. It’s such a happy time. When I’m singing at a wedding where I hardly know anyone - that’s a lot of fun; watching strangers go nuts at a wedding is a blast. Watching people you know and love go nuts at a wedding is enough to make you want to grab a dart gun and shoot somebody in the neck.A couple years ago, a young gal from Baltimore asked me to sing “End of the Rainbow” at her wedding. She had no budget.I told her, “I can do it.” But if Taylor Swift asks me to open up for her that day; or if David Letterman calls me at the last minute to do the Late Show, I won’t be able to. If you can live with that, “Yes. Yes I can.”The week before her wedding, as hard as it is to believe, Taylor Swift did not call. David Letterman did not appear on my doorstep. I told her yes. She was so ecstatic. Ever since she saw me sit down at the piano and sing “End of the Rainbow” at a concert in Annapolis at the Rams Head Tavern, it had been her wish for me to sing that song at her wedding. I was flattered. Really.When she asked me to sing, I was thinking - I could walk in, sing “End of the Rainbow” and then get back to packing.Packing? Yes. I was moving. The day after her wedding, I was leaving Baltimore to move to Nashville. A permanent move. A big move. The wedding was on a Saturday. I was leaving Sunday. I didn’t mention My Big Move to the bride to be. I figured she had enough on her mind.A couple days before the wedding, we were talking on the phone about details when she said,“You need to be on the boat by 11:00 AM.”Boat? Pardon me…did you say “boat?” Yes. The wedding was a cruise around Baltimore - for five hours. We would be out to sea the whole time, and there was no getting off the boat. The thoughts that were running through my mind - maybe I could have someone pick me up on a Jet Ski after my song. Maybe I could leap on to a passing barge. Or borrow an inflatable boat and bring it on board with me.I’m not a big boat guy. I don’t wake up in the middle of the night and say, “Damn! I wish I were on a boat right now.”My Dad had a small fishing boat, a 17-footer with an egg-beater on the back. That was fun. But a big boat out on the open sea makes me a bit woozy.But una promessa é un debito--“A promise is a debt.” That’s what my uncle used to say. I told the Bride of Baltimore that I’d be on the Love Boat bright and early.
That Saturday, I jumped in the Slim Vehicle, and drove to the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. I parked my car, and walked a few blocks down to the water. I had on my beige Hugo Boss suit and my brown suede Donald J. Pliner loafers. Gotta dress big for a big wedding! I saw some folks boarding a small cruise ship — it held maybe 200 people. I got on the boat at 11:00 AM.The Love Boat was all decked out in flowers and ribbons. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was out, it was warm – but not too – and there was a slight breeze as the boat slowly headed out into the Chesapeake Bay. They had the ceremony on the top deck. They exchanged their vows and everybody walked downstairs to the middle deck. And there I was, sitting at the piano. I sang “End of the Rainbow” for the bride and groom and their guests.After I finished, people were crying.They were crying, “Don’t give up your day job, Donkey Face!”After I sang, I guess people needed alcohol. My music usually drives people to drink. Folks were lining up at the bar. After cocktails, it was dinnertime. I sat next to Annabelle. I’ve known her for years. Annabelle is a joy. She is one happy woman.Annabelle is married to one of my bestest amigos. They've been separated for ten years, but never got divorced. They get along better now than they ever did. They’re the best of friends.Annabelle and I used to work together at a dive bar in Fells Point called the Horse You Came In On. People in Baltimore go to Fells Point to drink. She tended bar, I sang the blues. My band was called the Scrappy Harris Blues Band.Scrappy Harris was the barback at The Horse. He looked like a skinny little homeless kid. He smoked Marlboro Reds, drank Budweiser and was loud and boisterous. Scrappy had a small apartment nearby that looked like a flophouse. Bare mattress on the floor. Old sheets nailed over the windows. But Scrappy wasn’t poor. It turns out he was a trust fund kid. Had a ton of dough. He just liked being a barback, getting ice, stocking booze at The Horse You Came In On.We named the band after Scrappy. I wrote a song about him. I also wrote a song about Annabelle.“Annabelle…my sweet Annabelle, I’m going down to the wishing well…wish for a girl like Annabelle.”Annabelle and I had a blast at the wedding. After dinner, a band played. The guitar player was amazing, in a Stevie Ray Vaughan kinda way. I got up and sang “Pride and Joy.” The band was good. Really good.At the end of the shindig, Rob Fahey got up and sang “Raised on the Radio.” Rob was in a great Baltimore band called The Ravyns. “Raised on the Radio” was a big hit for them. It was used in the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High with Sean Penn.Rob sang his heart out. What a way to end the wedding.The Love Boat pulled up to the Inner Harbor. It docked right by the food pavilions. The Baltimore skyline was shining in the setting sun. I said goodbye to Annabelle. I walked up to the bride and groom. They handed me an envelope. Inside was a gift certificate for way too much money for my favorite Italian restaurant in Baltimore.La Scala.I had told them I would sing for free. I’m a great guy, ain’t I? The gift certificate was unexpected, but much appreciated. And very thoughtful.I said my goodbyes, and started walking from the Inner Harbor to the parking lot. On the way, a pickup truck drove by, splashed through a puddle, and splattered mud all over my pants and shoes. It looked like, well, like you can imagine. Dark brown mud. Beige suit. I was getting strange looks as I walked back to my car.I went home, changed, and walked Batu. Then I went to sleep. The next day, Slim Drummer John E Coale came over in his SUV. We packed up everything into our two cars, and drove 700 miles to Nashville.
Batu was in the back of the car, his dog bed piled on top of all the boxes, his head poking between the front seats.Goodbye, Baltimore. Hello, NashvilleBut wait! There’s more!I got an email the other day,“Can you sing “End of the Rainbow” as we walk down the aisle for our wedding? That song has been our song ever since we met.”He told me he was getting married Labor Day in Palm Springs. I’ve been staying in Palm Springs for the past few months. I wrote back and told him the same thing I told the Bride of Baltimore — if Taylor Swift calls at the last minute, I’ll have to bow out. He took it as a “yes.”He was so excited. He wrote me back and told me he was going to keep it a secret – he wanted it to be a surprise for his partner, Jack.SPINACH WITH TOASTED ALMONDS AND RAISINS
If you need some fortification before a Big Day, like a wedding day, why not make some spinach? It worked for Popeye!A few things about this dish…I used multi-colored organic grape tomatoes. Why?I saw them in the grocery store. They looked real cool and colorful. And they were inexpensive.You can buy almonds already toasted. But I like to toast my own nuts. I use raw slivered almonds, and toast them in a dry pan over medium-high heat. Do not leave your nuts unattended. Nothing worse than burnt nuts.I only cook the tomatoes for a couple minutes, you don’t want them to lose their shape or their skin.And only cook the spinach for a couple minutes, just enough to wilt it.Add the toasted almonds and raisins last. Because you don’t want your nuts getting soggy, and you don’t want the raisins to absorb all the sauce.I used brown raisins. Golden raisins would also work well.Serves 2INGREDIENTS8 ounces of baby spinach (I use organic)2 tablespoons raw almonds, chopped or slivered2 tablespoons olive oil2 tablespoons chopped shallotsCrushed red pepper (I start off with about ¼ teaspoon)1/3 cup white wine1 cup grape tomatoes, cut in half, seeds squeezed out1 tablespoon raisins (brown or golden)Salt to tasteHERE WE GO…Rinse off the spinach and spin dry--unless it’s the kind that’s already been triple-washed. Make sure it’s clean, SlimNation.And now, let’s toast our nuts."Here's to you, you nuts!"Get a small sauté pan.Put the heat on medium-high.Grab your nuts, put them in the dry pan.Shake your nuts around until they’re golden brown.Put your toasted almonds on a plate. Let ‘em cool.Put the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat.Add the 2 tablespoons shallots.Add the crushed red pepper.Cook for 2 minutes or so, stir every now and then.When the shallots are almost clear, add the white wine, turn the heat to high, and let it cook off for 1 minute or so.Turn the heat to medium-low, add the tomatoes, and cook for 2 minutes, stirring every now and then.Add the spinach, cook and stir for 2 minutes--or until it wilts.Add salt to taste.Add the toasted almonds.Add the raisins.Give it a stir.Dish it up! This would make a great side dish for any of the Slim Fish Dishes.
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Chicken Stuffed with Goat Cheese
Batu was born in Argentina on Cinco de Mayo – the 5th of May – 2004. Batu’s grandfather was a famous bull terrier from Germany named Rock. Batu’s owner paid $15,000 for Rock. He could’ve bought a car for fifteen grand. I’m glad he didn’t. But that’s still a lot of money for a dog.Batu’s owner had high hopes for the young pup. Batu was entered in a few South American dog shows, but there was some technical defect in his bone structure--he was bow-legged, just like me--which prevented him from advancing any further in his show dog career.Their loss. Batu was a neglected champion, much like Yours Truly. He was kept in a crate, not like Yours Truly. No one knew what to do with him. He just sat in his crate.I had wanted a bull terrier ever since I saw the movie Patton. Patton had a bull terrier named Willie. When my cousin – a true dog lover who knew I wanted a bull terrier – found out about Batu, she decided to get him for me for Christmas.She has a house in Chile. She’s well-connected in the dog world down there. She left Baltimore, Maryland, flew down, rescued Batu, and brought him to me on Christmas Eve, 2005. I was at my uncle Oscar’s house on the river. Cat Tail Creek, outside Baltimore, Maryland.
Batu came out of the bedroom that Christmas Eve, walked up to me, and stuck to me like Velcro that night--and almost every day since. Batu came with that name. I don’t know how he got it. I Googled "Batu" and all that came up was the grandson of Genghis Khan, Batu Khan.Batu Khan. So that’s the story I’m going with.At the time, I was living in an apartment in Roland Park, an incredible place in an old mansion that used to be a country club.I loved the place. When I brought Batu home, he would not leave my side. If I walked into the kitchen, he’d follow me. If I walked into the living room, he’d be right behind me. If I went into the bathroom, there he was.The first few nights I had Batu, he slept in bed with me. When I found a tick on the sheets one morning, I decided to get him his own bed. I put it on the floor by my bed, and that’s where he slept. If I woke up in the middle of the night, I would reach down and pet him.I think Batu had separation anxiety. Or maybe it was me. Whenever I’d leave, he’d howl.Truth was, I missed him, too.
So I took him just about everywhere I went. If I went to a recording studio, I’d call in advance and make sure it was OK. DC, Philly, New York — if I had a session, Batu went with me. If I went on vacation, Batu went with me. If I went to visit my Dad in upstate New York, Batu went with me.Whenever I’d sit down and play piano or guitar, Batu was there. Almost every song I wrote for the past eight years, Batu was at my feet, eyes closed halfway. He was probably dozing off. My music has that effect on people.The apartment in Roland Park had a crazy little kitchen with a small four-burner stove. I got a video camera and started shooting cooking videos; short, goofy little five-minute home movies which featured Batu.
I had heard about this new website called YouTube that had just started. I started posting the cooking videos on YouTube. One of my five or six fans saw the cooking videos, and brought them to the attention of their friend who was involved in a new network, the Italian American Network.They liked the videos. They loved Batu. The Italian American Network started posting the videos on their channel. They encouraged me to do more. Batu and I started making more cooking videos in that little kitchen. And I started writing those recipes down, so the Italian American Network could post them along with the videos. Batu and I kept on making videos and posting recipes.A few years later, Batu and I were at my Dad’s house in upstate New York on the Fourth of July, 2009. We were cooking and making videos. It had just rained, and there was a double rainbow reaching across the mountains. I took a photo. I walked inside my Dad’s house. The phone rang. My Dad lives on top of a mountain, a place called Rat Tail Ridge, and there aren’t too many neighbors. The phone doesn’t ring too often.
I picked up the phone. I got the news that Oscar—my Dad’s only brother-- had died. I told my Dad.My Dad said “Fuck!” about a hundred times in a row. Then he cried. I’ve only seen my Dad cry twice. When his best friend died, and when Oscar died.Unc — that’s what I called him – had fallen down the basement steps at Cat Tail Creek. He was going to the cellar to get a bottle of wine for the osso buco he was cooking. Unc died immediately. He was extremely wealthy, in good health, had a beautiful young wife. He was 88 years old. Unc and I were really close. He was like a second father to me, I had lived with him for a couple years. Unc taught me a lot about cooking. And wine. And life.I packed up Batu and my Dad, and we drove for six hours from Rat Tail Ridge down to Cat Tail Creek. We didn’t talk much. I was heartbroken. I felt so bad for my Dad; Oscar was his only brother, they had grown up poor on the mean streets of New York, and Oscar was always looking out for his younger brother – throughout their whole lives. Unc was like the Godfather — our world seemed to revolve around him.After the funeral, there was a wake at Unc’s house. The next day, I took off for a show in San Antonio, Texas. I had no idea how I was gonna get through it. I left Batu with the family. They knew him, loved him, and I knew he would get more than enough attention. Everybody loved Batu.When I landed in Texas, I got a frantic phone call.My sister started shrieking. They were crabbing off the pier. They put a chicken neck on the end of a string and threw it in the river. Batu jumped in after it. Batu can’t swim. Bull terriers can’t swim. They sink.Batu sank to the bottom. Everyone started jumping off the pier, right into the river--clothes on, wallets and cell phones in pockets. They were following the trail of bubbles, trying to find Batu. Finally they dug down, found him and fished him out. Mouth to snout resuscitation was not needed. Batu survived.Right after the concert in San Antonio, I flew back. Batu was fine.
I’ve had dogs all my life, but I never had a connection like I had with Batu. I never thought of him as a dog. To me, he was more like a funny little man in a dog suit.Batu had a bark that would make you jump five feet straight up in the air — it was loud and sharp and startling. He didn’t bark much. He was a very calm, laid-back mutt. Not much bothered him. When we would walk the streets of Manhattan, there was so much noise – trucks, sirens, car horns, brakes screeching. Batu never flinched. I could have fired a gun next to his head and he wouldn’t have blinked an eye.Batu had a sense of humor, he liked to play. He was funny. He was photogenic. When I pulled out the camera he’d look right at it.
Batu loved to ride in the car. To the post office, to New York City, or across the country, he was all-in. I’d throw his bed in the back of the car, and I’d have to lift all 70 pounds of him into the back. Then we’d take off. It’s funny; I guess he never knew if we were going a mile away, or a thousand miles away. He was just happy to be along for the ride. He would lie there for hours and hours and not make a sound.I’d have to reach back and shake him just to make sure he was alive.In 2011, Batu and I packed up the Slimousine and moved to Nashville. I wanted to re-pot the plant. Wipe the slate clean. So we drove to Tennessee. Eleven hours. Seven hundred miles. We did it in one day.I love Nashville. I found an apartment in a neighborhood called The Gulch. But after we moved in, Batu’s skin problems started getting worse. He’d always had skin problems, really bad sores between his toes. No one could solve the problem. I took Batu to more vets in more states than any one dog known to man. We tried soaks, meds, diets, boots, salves, and nothing worked. His feet were always pretty bad. In Nashville, Batu’s skin got much worse.How bad? At one point, I took Batu to his vet in Nashville and asked him if we should put him down. I told the vet that if we had to put Batu down, he might as well put me down, too. Maybe we could get two for the price of one.
The sores on his feet were so bad he couldn’t walk. He had sores on his elbows, his back, his chest, even his face. It looked hopeless. Batu was so miserable. So was I. The vet then suggested we put Batu on every dog medication known to man, and if it didn’t kill him, maybe he’d get better.We put poor ol’ Batu on antifungals, antibiotics, prednisone - I changed his diet to an incredibly expensive hypoallergenic dog food. I gave him baths a couple times a week with ridiculously expensive medicated shampoo that I had to leave on for 15 minutes at a time. Eventually Batu got better. We started eliminating drugs, and after a few weeks, Batu was almost back to normal. It was miraculous.Once a month, Batu and I would drive from Nashville back to Baltimore to see my Dad. He had moved nearby to Annapolis--Rat Tail Ridge was too isolated, and hard to maintain, with all the snow in the winter. Stacking firewood alone was a full-time job.Soon after my Dad moved to Annapolis, he fell and broke his hip. The doctors placed him in a hospice. I explained to the people in the hospice how much my Dad loved Batu. To my surprise, they let me take Batu up to my Dad’s room. My Dad would always brighten up when Batu and I arrived. When I got there, I’d lean in close to my Dad's ear (he was hard-of-hearing), as he lay there on the bed with his eyes closed and I’d yell,“WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE MONEY? IS IT BURIED IN THE FRONT YARD?”My Dad would smile, frail, cheeks drawn, and squeeze my hand.
A few days later, my Dad passed away. Batu and I were just about to walk into his room when the nurse walked out and gave me the news. I sat down on a bench in the hall. I took a photo of Batu on the floor.Funerals aren’t funny, in general.My Dad’s was. The service was serious, it was at a Quaker Meeting House in Baltimore, the same one where my cousin Johnny had his service years ago; my Mom and uncle Oscar had their services there.I gave the eulogy at my Dad’s service. Afterwards, people got up and told stories, funny anecdotes, and crazy quotes. It was touching, all the remembrances and memories. I played “Summer Days” after the service. It was a song I wrote for Angela Bofill; she recorded it on her debut CD. It was one of the first songs I wrote while I was at Motown. The first time my Dad heard it, he asked me to play it at his funeral. Thirty-five years later, I did.My Dad had been cremated. He wanted the urn of his ashes buried next to his mother, Angela. I had been to that cemetery many, many times. I remembered one February 14th years ago, roses in hand, Batu and I walking through a foot of snow, trying to find her grave, which was a plaque set in the ground. It was her birthday. Valentine’s Day. I stopped, reached down and scooped out some snow, and as crazy as it seems, there was her gravestone.After my Dad’s service, we went to the gravesite. It was freezing cold. There was a small hole next to Angela’s grave. It looked like it had been dug by a five year-old with a Fischer Price shovel. Some spray paint lined the circumference. Pieces of sod sat nearby. Next to the hole was a small plastic orange sign, stuck on a piece of wire, like a flag, that read,
“Please contact our office.”My Dad would have seen the humor. We left a basil plant at his gravesite, to honor his pesto prowess. His wife took his ashes. Batu and I drove back to Nashville soon after.A few days after we got back to Nashville, my sister called. Her only son had died suddenly and unexpectedly of heart failure. Batu and I got in the car and drove back to Baltimore for the funeral. It was heart-breaking. No parent should ever have to bury a child.I spoke at the funeral. And then Batu and I drove back to Nashville. It was a long drive.A year later, in December 2013, I left Nashville with Batu, and we drove to Breckenridge, Colorado. Batu and I needed a change of scenery.Breckenridge is a charming and lovely ski resort, with a vibe like an old Western mountain town. My brother had rented a place there for Christmas so the family could be together and hang out for a week or so. I took a jar of my Dad’s ashes with me, to give to my brother--which we accidentally dropped on the kitchen floor Christmas night. We scooped them up, and went outside, and scattered them at the foot of the Rockies. Batu was there.
After Christmas, Batu and I drove to Scottsdale, Arizona, stayed for New Year’s Eve, and then drove to Palm Springs, California, where I had some concerts lined up. On the way to Palm Springs, we passed the General Patton Museum. We stopped by the statue of Patton and Willie – those two were the reason I got a bull terrier in the first place.Batu and I got to Palm Springs, and decided to hang out for a while. The weather was wonderful; sunny, warm and dry, with fresh lemons, oranges and grapefruit everywhere. Batu loved it.The first four months of 2014 were the healthiest and happiest days of Batu’s life. All of his skin problems disappeared — it must have been the climate. I put him on a diet. He lost nine pounds. He was in the best shape of his life. Batu seemed to flourish in Palm Springs. He was the King of the Springs.Batu had only one health problem remaining. He had an enlarged heart. Batu would pass out occasionally, drop to the ground like a ton of bricks. It was always very scary. But he always came back.Batu turned 10 on the Cinco de Mayo, 2014. He never looked better. On Mother’s Day, I left for a concert in San Diego. When I left Batu with the dog-sitter, all was great.I did the show that night at Humphrey’s, a cool little club on the bay. That night was one of the happier ones in a long time. I had just done a really good show, my California band was sounding really good, Batu was doing great, we were both digging California - all was good in SlimLand.The next morning I got a text from the dog sitter. I called her, and she told me Batu had fallen asleep the night before – Mother’s Day, May 11th – and never woke up.I couldn’t believe it. When I left he was healthier than ever. There was no way he could be dead. I drove from San Diego to Palm Springs. Three of the longest hours of my life. I could hardly see the road from the tears streaming down my face.
I walked in to the house. Batu was lying on the kitchen floor. I scooped his lifeless body up, and put him in the car, as I’d done so many thousands of times before. And I drove him to the vet to be cremated. When they took him out of the car and walked away, you would have thought that everybody I had ever loved had just gone down on the Titanic. I broke.Three thousand fifty-nine days. That's how long I had Batu.Seems like a long time. It wasn’t nearly long enough. I miss my sidekick. He had been by my side for the past nine years, through the good times and the bad.I started this cookbook when Batu and I started making cooking videos for the Italian American Network. It was early 2006.This recipe was the last recipe I did with Batu. I took the photos for this dish on May 3, 2014. Batu passed away the following week. After a couple of weeks curled up on the floor in the fetal position, crying my eyes out, I decided to start this cookbook.CHICKEN STUFFED WITH GOAT CHEESE
I don’t like wasting food. If I’ve got leftovers in the fridge, as long as they don’t have anything growing on them, I’ll eat ‘em.I had some goat cheese that was on the cusp, so to speak. I took a sniff, and it smelled OK.But I knew I needed to use it soon, so I came up with this brilliant idea--mix it with some scallion and red pepper and make a little stuffing for the chicken breasts I was about to cook.The dinner was actually delizioso.A couple things -Before the lawsuits start flying in, always remember to check the expiration dates on your food. Your nose knows. Take a sniff - when in doubt, throw it out.My brother once made a hot dog late at night, and as he was eating it, I noticed the bottom of the roll was all moldy and green. It was pretty funny - until that night when he threw up in the drawer of the bedside table that we shared.It’s important to check stuff before you stuff your face.Whenever you handle raw chicken, make sure you clean everything it touches really well.As with any recipe, if you don’t like an ingredient, leave it out, or substitute.You guys are smart. With incredibly good taste, I might add. You can do this.INGREDIENTS
¾ cup goat cheese1 tablespoon chopped scallion — the middle part only1 tablespoon minced red bell pepperSalt and fresh-cracked black pepper3 chicken breasts, sliced thin (about ¼ inch thick)
3 slices prosciuttoFlour (1/3 cup should do)1 tablespoon butter1 tablespoon olive oilHere we goPreheat your oven to 400 degrees. Now let’s make our stuffing…Put the goat cheese in a small bowl.Add 
the scallion and red pepper.Add salt and pepper to taste.Mick ‘em up.Set aside. Let’s make some chicken!Lay a chicken breast flat on a plate.Put a slice of prosciutto on half the chicken breast.
Put a couple tablespoons of the goat cheese mixture on top of the prosciutto, spread it around evenly.Fold the breast over, in half.Do this with all 3 of your breasts.Put some flour on a plate, about 1/3 cup. Add some salt and pepper, mix.Grab a folded breast.Place it on the flour.Turn it over, so both sides have been dusted with flour.Do this with all the chicken.Get a sauté pan; put it over medium-high heat.Add the butter and olive oil.When the butter starts to bubble, add the 3 chicken breasts.Cook for 4 minutes.Turn ‘em over, cook on the other side for 4 minutes.Put them in a baking dish, and place in the oven for 5 minutes.Pull ‘em out, check for doneness.If they’re not done, put ‘em back in the oven for a few more minutes.When the chicken breasts are done, dish ‘em up!I did roasted beets with carrots as a side dish, along with some risotto.
MANGIAMO!!!!!
Slim Man's Cod Pieces
You couldn't ask for a better friend than Cowboy Pickles. He has a recording studio outside Washington, D.C. It’s a studio, yes. But it’s really just a small spare room, in his humble home that’s close to the University of Maryland.I did the first Slim Man CD there. The second one, too.The room is about 20 feet long and 15 feet wide. It is stacked, floor-to-ceiling with audio equipment—old, new and everything in-between.Cowboy has never gotten rid of anything. Fender Rhodes electric pianos, old Hammond B3 organs, Hohner Clavinets, Mini-Moogs, Commodore 64 computers, old JBL speakers, amplifiers, cassette recorders, 8 track tape machines…every microphone, guitar, keyboard he's ever bought, he still owns. Some of it is junk. Some of it is priceless.Cowboy Pickles has an old rifle by the studio door—the kind you might see in an old Western movie. He has an ax--a big ax--by his toilet, as if he were expecting some crazed Meth-Head to come crashing through his bathroom window.Walking through the studio is like walking through a small maze. One false move and a wall of junk might fall on you and bust your cranium.
Batu loves Cowboy Pickles’ studio. He lays down on the floor and listens to the music, eyes half-closed like he’s in a state of bliss.The Pickles Compound is near a railroad track. It’s close to a small airport. And it’s so close to the University of Maryland that you can hear the marching band rehearsing in the distance.Cowboy Pickles gets some amazing sounds out of that little spare room.Recording vocals was a challenge. The timing had to be just right or else the microphone would pick up all those noises…planes taking off, trains passing by.And the air conditioner had to be shut off or else the mic would pick up the hum. Which wasn’t bad in winter. But in the dead of summer, when it’s 90 degrees and 90% humidity, it was murder without AC.And we did most of our recording in the summer. Cowboy Pickles is a music teacher--he gives private piano and guitar lessons. And when his students went on summer vacation, we'd have a lot of time to record.Whenever we got ready to do vocals, we’d shut off the AC. Then we’d open the windows and listen for…planes, trains, marching bands, lawn mowers, dogs barking.If all was quiet on the Eastern Front, we’d record.Sometimes, we’d get a great vocal take. But when we’d listen back to the track all by itself, we’d sometimes hear a plane landing. Or a train going by. Or a car horn.Birds chirping was OK. I kinda liked the way it sounded.But a marching band…unless it was somehow miraculously in time with the song we were working on, we’d have to start all over. Any time there was an open microphone—vocals, sax, etc., we had to listen closely for all kinds of extraneous noises.Most of them we caught. Some we didn't...We were mixing a song called Shelter From A Storm, from the stunning Slim Man debut CD, "End of the Rainbow." Mixing is the final part of the process where you determine the volume and tone of the tracks you've recorded. We were listening to the song, and I heard the phone ring. I yelled to Cowboy Pickles...“Answer the phone!”Cowboy picked up the phone. No one there.We went back to mixing the song. I heard the phone ring again.“Answer the phone!”Cowboy picked up. No one there. It happened a third time. We stopped mixing. We took a listen to my vocal track. We listened to it ‘solo’, which means…all by itself.And sure enough, there was a phone ringing on the vocal track. Plain as day. In one spot, you could hear…RRRRRRRRing!So we had a decision to make. Start all over…re-record the whole vocal track. Or just leave it in. We left it in.So…if you’re listening to the first Slim Man CD, and you hear a phone ringing…don’t answer it!When the CD was finished, we had a CD release party and concert at a club in downtown Baltimore. We invited every newspaper, magazine, reporter, TV station, radio station--we invited everybody. Anybody.Nobody showed up. I counted 16 people in a place that held 200. I went home that night, and was about as down-low as you can go. I was convinced the CD was gonna flop.I was playing piano at a waterfront dive bar in Baltimore called “The Horse You Came In On”. It’s one of the oldest bars in America. I played Friday afternoons, mostly to a group of guys that called themselves "The Knuckleheads".They wore hats like Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble wore to their lodge meetings--hats that looked like furry coneheads with steerhorns sticking out each side.One Friday, the phone rang at the bar. The bartender, Annabelle, answered it, listened, and then called out:“Looks like you’re number 27!”I had no idea what she was talking about. Neither did The Knuckleheads. But apparently, the radio promoter I had hired was finally starting to get some interest.The next week…”You’re number 21!"It continued to climb the charts, week by week. It got all the way to #9. Nationwide.
So technically, it was a Top Ten Hit. We started selling tons of CDs, we went out on tour, we played all over the US and Europe…All from a little studio, in a spare room, next to an airport, near a train track and within earshot of a marching band.Codfish CakesIn Baltimore, where I spent most of my Slim Boyhood, almost every little grocery store had coddies--codfish cakes. The two ingredients were codfish and mashed potatoes. The coddies were displayed on a tray, along with Saltine crackers and plain yellow mustard.I loved ‘em.When codfish went on sale a few weeks ago at the local grocery store near Slim’s Shady Trailer Park in Palm Springs, I thought it would be a great time to create my own codfish cake recipe. I call my new creation...Slim Man’s Cod Pieces
INGREDIENTS3 medium Yukon gold potatoes, cut into cubes (about 2 cups)1 pound codfish filet, skinless, cut into cubes (about 2 cups)2 tablespoons minced shallot1 tablespoon minced garlic1 tablespoon chopped rosemary2 tablespoons butter4 tablespoons olive oilKosher salt, fresh cracked pepper…to taste6 cups water1 egg½ cup of panko breadcrumbs (I used Progresso Panko Italian Style)FlourHERE WE GO...Get a large pot, put in 6 cups of water or so, put it on the highest heat ya gots.Put the taters in the water.When almost tender—it took mine about 10 minutes after the water came to a boil—add the fish cubes. That's right, put the fish right in the boiling water with the potatoes.Cook for 5 minutes.Drain in a colander.
Put the fish and the potatoes in a bowl, add 1 tablespoon of butter, add salt and pepper, and mash coarsely.Let it sit and cool as you…Get a sauté pan and put it over medium heat. I used a 10-inch pan.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter starts to bubble, add the garlic and shallot.Saute for 3 minutes until the shallots are clear and the garlic is pale gold.Add the rosemary and stir a few times.
Cook for 2 minutes.Take the shallot/garlic/rosemary mixture that's in the pan and add it to the codfish and potatoes.Mix it up.Grab your egg, put it in a bowl, and beat it.Add it to the codfish and taters, and mix.Add the breadcrumbs and mix by hand.If the mixture is too liquidy, add more breadcrumbs.When the mixture feels right—not too liquidy, not too bready--make cakes.I like my cakes about the size of a yo-yo. This recipe yielded 8 codfish cakes.Put ‘em on a plate.Take the sauté pan that you used for the garlic/shallots/rosemary.Put it over medium-high heat.Add 3 tablespoons of olive oil.As the oil heats up…Get a flat plate, put some flour on it.Lightly dredge each codfish cake in the flour.When the olive oil is hot, put the cakes in the pan, and saute for 3 minutes, until the bottoms are golden brown.Flip ‘em over—be gentle--and cook on the other side for 3 minutes, until golden brown.Place on paper towels when done.Serve with spicy brown mustard, or plain old yellow mustard like we used to do in Bawlmer!
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Pizza Eggs
My brother created this recipe. It’s the family go-to recipe for breakfast on holidays and birthdays and…the morning after a wedding.It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s delizioso.I make my own tomato sauce from scratch. It takes about 30 minutes, start-to-finish, and it is so good and so healthy. The recipe is on the slimmancooks.com website.If you make your own sauce, and I strongly suggest you do, you can make the sauce, and then crack the eggs into it. You’ll need a couple cups of sauce, either way.Bufala mozzarella is made from the milk of water buffalos. Where are they keeping all these water buffalos? I’ve never seen one. How do you raise a herd of water buffalo? Milking water buffalo...you must have to go to a special school to learn how to do that.Bufala mozzarella is pretty expensive, and real good, but necessary for this dish—you can use regular mozzarella. Save the bufala for a Caprese salad!Use freshly-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. That stuff in the box tastes like kitty litter.
INGREDIENTS3 cups tomato sauce1 ¼ cup freshly shredded mozzarella¼ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese6 eggsSalt and fresh cracked black pepperHERE WE GO…
Put a large fry pan on high heat—I used a 12-inch pan.Put in the 3 cups of sauce.When it starts bubbling, lower the heat to medium-low.Break the eggs right into the sauce, but keep ‘em separated from each other.Add salt and pepper.Add a little shredded mozzarella on top of each egg.Cover and cook for about 5 minutes, until the eggs are done.Remove from heat.Add Parmiggiano-Reggiano.Serve it up with crusty bread, to your crusty, trusty gang of banditos, and…MANGIAMO!
Slim Man Cooks Ahi Tuna with Red Wine Sauce
Ahi Tuna With Red Wine Sauce and the Baltimore Colts
Why don’t cannibals eat divorced people?They’re bitter.September 11, 1983. The Baltimore Colts football team was scheduled to play the Denver Broncos. The year before, 1982, the Colts had not won a game, and because they stunk so bad they got the first pick in the NFL draft the following year.The Colts chose quarterback John Elway, from Stanford University. Elway refused to play for the Colts. He was even considering joining the New York Yankees baseball team rather than play football for the Colts. So the Colts traded Elway to the Denver Broncos and in the second game of the 1983 season, the Broncos came to Baltimore to play the Colts at Memorial Stadium.I had been a Baltimore Colts fan from day one. My uncle Oscar had season tickets from their very first game – the seats were in the mezzanine, right next to the press box. Oscar played football in high school-he was good enough to be offered a full scholarship to college, but chose medicine instead. When the Colts came to Baltimore, Oscar bought the best seats. I went with him to as many games as I could. I knew all the players, their numbers, their statistics, their nicknames.Lenny Moore, #24. Gino Marchetti, #89. Artie Donovan, #70. Johnny Unitas, #19. Raymond Berry #82.
I loved football. When I was a kid, I played football in little league. I wasn’t offered any scholarships, but I loved playing. And I loved the Colts.You can imagine how thrilled I was when the Colts called and asked my band to sing the national anthem for Elway’s first appearance in Baltimore. The band was BootCamp; we’d been making a name for ourselves in the music biz. We had worked up a great acapella version of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” It was a show stoppa. At parties, shows, concerts, weddings, funerals - all of a sudden, out of the blue we’d burst into the national anthem It was a cheap way to get a standing ovation. But our four-part harmony rendition was quite stirring, if I may say so myself.When we got to Memorial Stadium that Sunday, we were escorted through the Colts locker room, and into an underground tunnel that led to the field. As we were coming to the end of the tunnel, we heard this rumbling…The players, all suited up and breathing fire, were coming down the tunnel right behind us. We stood up against the wall and let them pass. They were big, and they had a look in their eyes that was fierce. Like Gladiators getting ready to enter the Coliseum.When they passed, we followed them out onto the field. We walked up to the microphone. The announcer asked everyone to stand and remove their hats. Memorial Stadium got dead-quiet. Then he introduced us, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Baltimore’s own BootCamp!”We sang our hearts out. It was the thrill of a lifetime. Fifty-thousand people standing on their feet, cheering. A standing ovation! Of course, they had to stand because it was the national anthem; but I’m marking it down in my bio as "a standing ovation before a sellout crowd of 50,000."
When we finished, we walked to the sidelines, and stood among the Colt players. The Colts’ front office had given us field passes. I’m sure when they gave them to us they weren’t thinking we’d stay on the field for the whole game, but there we were, standing on the sidelines with the players and coaches.All the players and coaches were giving us funny looks. I can’t blame them. We were dressed like …well, it was the 1980s. We looked like a cross between Duran Duran and Devo. We had on as much eyeshadow over our eyes as the Colts had under theirs.On the opening kick-off, I couldn’t see what was going on, but I could hear it. The two teams charging down the field sounded like a stampede of wild horses. When they hit each other, you could hear the crack of the helmets, the grunts and groans of the players.When the special teams unit came over to the sidelines after the kick-off, it was something I’d never witnessed before. The players were out of breath, wheezing and panting - fingers were broken, uniforms were muddy, noses were bloody.Playing football is a brutal sport. Playing music is not. Musicians don’t encounter a lot of violence. Unless, they’re really, really bad.The Baltimore fans were booing Elway mercilessly that day. People from B-Mo were pissed off. They weren’t afraid to be vocal about it. John Elway had said he’d play anywhere but Baltimore, and we Baltimorons took it personally.It would have been nice if the Colts had won. But the Colts were pretty bad that day. They lost, 17-10. The newspaper ran a photo on the front page the next day.Hit Man Howie Z was in it, back to the camera, walking off the field. 1983. It would be the Colts last season in Baltimore.On March 29, 1984, at 2:00 AM, 15 Mayflower moving trucks arrived at the Baltimore Colts training complex. Eight hours later, they were loaded up and heading to Indianapolis.They took everything - the Colts’ name, the trophies, the memorabilia, the mascot, the uniforms. All gone to Indianapolis.The mayor of Indy had offered the owner of the Colts a 12 million dollar loan, a 4 million dollar training complex, and a new 77 million dollar stadium.Let me make an analogy. Your wife (spouse) meets someone new, a wife that you stood by through the good times and the bad. This New Guy offers her a 12 million dollar loan, a 4 million dollar work-out room, and a 77 million dollar house.And she takes it. That’s OK, things didn’t work out, I can handle that. But did she really need to take all your stuff, too? Your trophies, your memorabilia, your mounted deer head? No. With all that money, she could have bought new stuff.Did she have to take it all in the dark of night, at two in the morning, while you were sleeping? That’s harsh. But that’s what the Colts did.When I heard the news about the Colts leaving town, I was pissed off; so much so, that I didn’t go to a football game, or follow the NFL for years.I was bitter. Lots of folks in Baltimore were.When the Baltimore Ravens came to town, Oscar got season tickets, great seats in the club section. I resisted at first. Then I gave in. I went to my first Ravens game. The guy sang the national anthem and it sent chills up and down my spine. The crowd cheered, jets roared as they flew right over our heads, and Ray Lewis came out of the tunnel and did his dance while fireworks shot into the sky. The stadium went wild. It was thrilling.I was hooked. I was back in love! The Ravens went on to win the Super Bowl that year—2000.It took me a while, but I had found a better wife. She’s been great. She won the Super Bowl again last year. What more could a husband ask for?I’m not bitter anymore. I’m better, not bitter.
AHI TUNA STEAKS WITH RED WINE SAUCEWhat do you do with all that red wine left over from the Super Bowl Party? Make red wine sauce!You can use this sauce on steak, chicken or ahi tuna steaks. You can grill them, or sear them. I seared.I went to the grocery store not long ago and they had beautiful ahi tuna steaks for $8 a pound. I bought two, and was wondering how to cook them.I had done tuna with a red wine sauce before, but it wasn’t where I wanted it to be. The sauce wasn’t right. It was bugging me. It was keeping me up at night. Then, around dawn, it dawned on me. Tomato paste!The next time I made the sauce, I added a little tomato paste to the sauce to thicken it up and give it a little zip. Then I added a little dried oregano to give it some zing. Zip! Zing! It turned out great.A few things before we get started - the tuna steaks I used were about an inch and a half thick. I cooked them for 2 minutes per side over medium-high heat. They turned out perfectly — the pepper/salt/sugar that I had sprinkled on top gave them a nice sear, and they were a beautifully pink on the inside.Cooking times vary. A thicker piece of fish takes longer.Also, when you light your Cognac on fire, be careful, boys and girls. Yes, the subsequent explosion of flame looks so cool and very dramatic, but have the fire department on the phone in one hand, and a garden hose in the other.If you’re using this sauce on a steak or chicken, just cook or grill the steak as you normally do, and add a little sauce on top.This is a bold sauce. Don’t use too much!INGREDIENTS2 ahi tuna steaks, about a half pound (8 ounces) each2 tablespoons butter2 tablespoons olive oil2 tablespoons chopped shallots1 tablespoon chopped garlic2 ounces of Cognac (about ¼ cup)½ cup dry red wine½ cup stock (I used beef)½ teaspoon dried oregano1 tablespoon tomato pasteFresh ground black pepperKosher saltBrown sugar or raw/turbinado sugar (you can use plain sugar in a pinch)Here we go…Rinse off your tuna steaks and pat dry with paper towels.Let’s make the sauce.In a small pan over medium heat, add 1 tablespoon of butter, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter melts, add the shallots and the garlic.Cook about 2 minutes until the shallots are clear and the garlic is golden. Stir a few times.Add the 2 ounces of Cognac.
Stand back, Jack! Get a lighter, one with a long handle. Light the Cognac on fire. Be careful! The flames will shoot up!When the Cognac burns off, and the fire department has left…Add the red wine and the beef stock.Let it cook for 3 minutes while stirring.Add the oregano, stir.Add the tomato paste, stir for a minute or so.Remove from heat.The sauce is done, now let’s cook our tuna.Rinse the ahi tuna steaks and pat ‘em dry with paper towels.Add a little freshly cracked black pepper, a little kosher salt and a sprinkle of turbinado or brown sugar on top of each steak.Get a sauté pan; put it over medium-high heat.Add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the pan.When the butter starts to brown, add the tuna, peppered/salted/sugared side down.Add a LITTLE SPRINKLE of fresh cracked black pepper, kosher salt, and turbinado sugar to the other side.Cook for 2 minutes, turn over with tongs. Swirl the butter and olive oil around in the bottom of the pan, so you’re not placing the ahi tuna in a dry pan.Cook for 2 minutes on the other side.Give it a slice, see if it’s done to your liking. If it is, dish it up. Keep in mind, the fish will keep cooking, even though you've taken it out of the pan. Err on the side of rare.Put some greens on a plate with a few grape tomatoes, place the tuna on top, drizzle just a little red wine sauce over each piece, and…
MANGIAMO!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Halibut Panko Fish Sticks
My sister had all her kids by C-section. They’re all pretty normal, except whenever they leave the house, they go out the window.When the doctors perform a C-section (cesarean section) they make an incision, and bring the baby out via the abdomen rather than, well you know. They stitch you back up, and instruct you to stay still for a week or so until your incision has healed. When my sister had her first baby, she asked me to babysit for a week while she recovered. I did. I loved it. I told my sister that whenever she had another kid, I’d do it again.I had no idea at the time that she’d go on to have four more kids.The doctors should have put a piece of Velcro on her stomach. My sister had kids every two years, like clockwork. At one point I was babysitting a newborn, a two year-old, a four year-old, a six year-old and an eight year-old. My sister used cloth diapers. Not on herself, on the kids. So whenever the kids peed or pooped, you had to take off the diapers, shake ‘em out, and put on a fresh one—with safety pins. And then put on a diaper cover. Babysitting was hectic. Crazy.It was exhausting, yes, but I actually didn’t mind it. Whenever my sister and her husband needed a break from their precious little monsters, they’d ask Uncle Slimmy to come up for a while.Babysitting five kids is like living in a tornado – it’s a whirlwind of activity. Get ‘em up, get ‘em dressed, make breakfast, get lunches packed, cut chewing gum out of their hair and then get them off to school.After school, you pick them up, drive ‘em around to all their after-school activities, go home, make dinner, clean up, make sure they do their homework, and then put ‘em to bed.The next day, you get up and do it all over again for the ingrates.One especially hectic morning, all the kids were running around screaming. I was trying to make sure all five were dressed; I was making school lunches and trying to get everybody ready for school.I’m not good at breakfast. I can cook you a dinner that will make you cry tears of joy, or at least not make you sick, but breakfast for me is some fresh fruit, maybe an English muffin.I rarely eat cereal, especially the kind kids like to eat – Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch, Count Chocula. But when you need to feed the little monsters in the morning and you’re in a hurry, cereal is quick and easy. You just fill a bowl and grab some milk.Which is what I did that crazy morning - except when I grabbed the milk carton, it was empty. Well, there was a drop. Kids love to do that, don’t they? They’ll drink out of the carton, and leave the last drop so they won’t have to throw it away.
So there they are, five kids seated at the table, bowls filled with cereal, clock ticking, and no milk. The kids had a rare moment of silence. They all looked at me, wondering what I was going to do next.I looked at the clock. We were running way late. I grabbed a liter bottle of Coca-Cola and poured it over the cereal in each bowl. They first looked at me like I was crazy. Then suddenly they all just thought it was the coolest thing in the world. 
They ate it up. They left the house that morning on the highest of sugar highs.No one got sick, so I’m marking it down as a successful meal.Breakfast was a crapshoot, but I almost always had a nice home-cooked dinner for the kids when they got back from school. Spaghetti and meatballs. Chicken Parmigiano. Cacio e Pepe (Italian mac ‘n cheese).But one night, I realized we had nothing in the fridge. It was too late to go to the store and come home and cook. So I ordered Chinese food. Only one problem – they didn’t deliver out in the sticks where my sister lived, meaning I’d have to jump in the car and go pick it up…My favorite car ever? My Jeep Wrangler convertible. I loved that car. It was a manly man’s car; stripped down of all luxury. No radio. No AC. No back seat. A canvas top. Canvas doors. Plastic windows. It was a rough ride. I loved to put the dogs in the back, smoke cigars and drive around.When the weather was nice, and you had the top down and the doors off, it was heavenly. It was basically a two-seater. Which posed a problem that night. I couldn’t leave the kids home alone while I went to pick up Chinese food.I didn’t have enough seats or seat belts to strap them all in. What to do?I put the two youngest in the front seat and strapped them in together. The other three I put in the back, and covered them with a big blanket. It looked like I was trying to smuggle illegals. I told them to shut up, and I gently drove to the Chinese place, picked up dinner, and drove back.It was only a few miles. I took it easy on the brakes – I didn’t want those kids rolling around the back of the Jeep. I’m just glad I didn’t get stopped by the cops.After that, the kids wanted me to drive them around all the time in the back of the Jeep. I didn’t want to press my luck with the police, so I’d drive them around the property, through the cornfields, over the hills. They loved it.I did an all-ages show one Christmas in Towson, Maryland. The nieces and nephew were just kids, they came down and sat in the front row. It was the first time they’d seen me on stage. To this day I remember how good that made me feel to see them there. None of them fell asleep, like people normally do at my concerts.I introduced the kids to the crowd, and then asked them to come up on stage and sing with “Uncle Slimmy.” They were mortified. It was the first time I ever called myself Uncle Slimmy. The name stuck. The kids didn’t come up on stage that night—but they’ve been coming to Slim Shows ever since. I thought they’d have more sense than that.I was honored when my oldest niece asked me to sing “End of the Rainbow” at her wedding three years ago. She just had twin girls. She didn’t name either one “Slim”. But it does make me a great uncle.Great Uncle Slimmy.HALIBUT PANKO FISH STICKS
My Mom was a great cook. But when she was in a rush to get dinner on the table for us kids, sometimes she’d pull a package of Mrs. Paul’s Fish Sticks out of the freezer and heat ‘em up. When I was trying to come up with a recipe for a piece of halibut, I decided to cut it into pieces the size of Mrs. Paul’s, and make my own fish sticks. I’m a genius, ain’t I?How did fish get to be so expensive? The halibut I used was $28 a pound. That’s ridiculous. What’s even more ridiculous is using that expensive halibut to make fish sticks. But they are so ridiculously good.I love panko bread crumbs. I mean, I don’t eat them out of the bag, but they’re great for frying. Panko breadcrumbs are all the rage right now. I understand why panko breadcrumbs are so popular. They’re light, crunchy, delicious, and have a great texture.Where the hell were they a few years ago? It’s like balsamic vinegar - up until ten years ago, nobody knew what balsamic vinegar was. All we had was Progresso red wine vinegar.And now? We have 500 varieties of balsamic vinegar. We’ve got $600 bottles of balsamic vinegar made by monks in Montepulciano.As far as the fish goes, you can use any thick, firm-fleshed white fish — halibut, sea bass, or grouper. Cod would be an inexpensive alternative. The best way to cut these filets is into rectangles, about four inches long and about an inch wide.Another thing – don’t bread the fish in advance. Dip and fry, that’s what I always say. If you leave breaded filets sitting around, they get gooey and don’t fry right. And you know what Nat King Cole said,”Straighten up and fry right!”INGREDIENTS
1 pound skinless halibut filets, cut into rectangular pieces2 eggsSalt and fresh ground black pepper½ cup canola oil (or olive oil)2 cups panko breadcrumbs on a plate (you might not use them all)Here we go…Rinse the fish and pat dry with paper towels. Put the fish on a platter.Take the eggs, and put them in a shallow bowl. Add salt and pepper. Beat it!Heat the canola oil in a large pan over medium-high heat. You can use canola oil for this, because it doesn’t smoke at high temperatures. But I’ve used olive oil many times with great results.Grab a piece of fish. Dip it in the beaten egg, let the excess drip off.Then roll it in the panko breadcrumbs. Press each side in, make sure the panko sticks to each side of the fish. Put it on a plate.Do this with all the pieces of fish.When all the fish is breaded, take a pinch of the breadcrumbs, and drop ‘em in the oil. If they sizzle, the oil is hot and ready.Place as many pieces of fish as you can in the hot canola oil. When you see the bottom edges of the fish turn golden brown – 2 or 3 minutes - use some tongs and turn them over. Don’t fork it – you don’t want to lose any of the juiciness, and you don’t want the fish to flake apart on ya.Brown on the other side for about 2 or 3 minutes.When both sides are golden brown, place on a plate with covered with a layer or two of paper towels.You gotta eat this dish right away. Plate it up right quickly, garnish with parsley, and serve with lemon slices. My Caprese salad is the perfect side for these fish sticks.
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!!