Wow. That’s a long title. But when I tried to trim it down, I felt bad about whoever I was leaving out!I’ve been on a scallop kick lately. One of the reasons is...they are delizioso. I do love the flavor, texture, smell...I guess what I’m saying is...I’m a big scallop fan.But the main reason for the recent consummation of scallops is...
They’re on sale at a local grocery called Sprouts. Eight bucks for a one-pound bag of frozen, wild-caught bay scallops from the Gulf of Mexico. Eight bucks! And they really are stinkin’ good.So I’ve been buying a couple bags at a time, I keep them in the freezer for emergencies, in case there’s an earthquake or if I bang my head on the goat shed and need an ice-pack.Bay scallops are the small ones. Sea scallops are the big ones, the ridiculously expensive ones. I don’t know why sea scallops have almost doubled in price lately. Maybe there’s a scallop divers strike that I’m not aware of. Maybe scallops just aren’t having as many children as before.Regardless, sea scallops are costly. But bay scallops ain’t. And I’m really digging the bay scallops, I love the way they taste, they’re wild-caught, they don’t cost a ton of dough, and they’re easy and quick.What’s not to love?
The other night here at the Slim Shack I wanted some pasta. I’ve been getting these cravings. Maybe I’m pregnant. But I’ve been craving pasta lately, so I pulled out a bag of scallops.I had a basil plant in back of the Shack, it’s been doing pretty well despite it being 189 degrees outside. Palm Springs gets hot in the summer. It was so hot the other day here at the Slim Shack that when I milked the goats all that came out was evaporated milk.I usually keep garlic and lemons and white wine handy. And I had some spaghetti, too. And I had some butter, some real good Irish butter that I had splurged on last week.So I thought I’d whip up a quick little something. I put it all together, and it was good, Slim Folks.It was so good I made it again just a few nights later. Just to be sure.And?It’s well-worthy of Slim People.NOTES:The scallops threw off a bit of liquid. It didn’t bother me, it actually made the sauce taste better. It reduced quite nicely! And the flavor, she was a-so nice!Bay scallops are small and don’t take much time at all. Try and get them to sear on each side. It’s tough, but you can do it, Slim People!I put this over pasta. Call me crazy, but I’m a glutton for gluten!But you can serve it as is with some crusty bread to your crusty friends and family. Or you can serve it over rice. Put it on bruschetta, or a pizza, or your pancakes in the morning!INGREDIENTS1 pound bay scallopsFresh cracked black pepper, brown or Turbinado sugar, and salt, a sprinkling of each3 tablespoons butter1 tablespoon olive oil5 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled½ cup dry white wineJuice from one lemon (2 tablespoons, NO SEEDS!)Small handful fresh basil leaves HERE WE GO!Put a sauté pan over medium-high heat.Add 1 tablespoon of butter, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.When the butter has melted and starts to brown, add the scallops.Cook for 90 seconds or until the bottoms are golden.Stir/flip as best you can!
Cook on the other side for 90 seconds or until golden.Remove with a slotted spoon to a platter.Reduce the heat to medium.Add the garlic, cook for a minute or two, until golden.Flip, cook for another minute or two, until golden.Add the wine and the lemon juice.Turn the heat to high, scrape and stir for a minute or so as the sauce reduces.Turn heat down to medium.Add 2 tablespoons of butter.When it melts, add the scallops.Take the basil, snip it with scissors on top of the scallops.Stir gently for a minute.Turn off the heat.She’s a-done!I put my scallop sauce over pasta, I cooked a half-pound of spaghetti in salted boiling water, drained it, and added it right to the sauce and gave it a toss.She’s a-so nice!MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Fregola
My niece got married in June.My sister had five kids, all by Cesarean. They’re all pretty normal, except every time they leave the house they go out the window.My sister would be laid up after each birth, so Uncle Slimmy would babysit the newborn until my sister's stomach recovered, a couple weeks. At one point, I had a newborn, a 2-year-old, a 4-year-old, a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old.It wasn’t easy, but it was such a wonderful experience. I loved it, and I loved them. Still do!The niece who just got married...her husband...I love the guy. He’s funny and smart and cool and comes from a great family. They met in high school in Pennsylvania.The wedding was in Philly, a town I hadn’t been to in a while. Man, it has changed. I stayed at a hotel right in the heart of downtown. I took a jog/walk up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the one where the statue of Rocky is.
Rocky. Remember that movie? Sylvester Stallone? When he was training for his big fight, he’d end his exercise routine with a jog up the museum steps as the theme song played. “Flying high now!”I jogged up those steps. And when I got to the top, I played my own theme song. “It’s All About Love!” Seemed suitable for the City of Brotherly Love, which is Philly’s nickname. I jogged back to the hotel, and right next door was one of the best urban markets I’ve ever been to.The Reading Terminal Market. They had everything. Bay scallops, sea scallops, all kinds of fresh fish, meats, produce, Philly cheesesteaks, pastries...they even had pig’s feet.
Which were pretty disgusting looking.My Mom was from down south, and they had big jars of pickled pig’s feet in this red liquid, sitting on counters at gas stations. Unrefigerated. You could stick your hand in the jar, grab a pickled pig’s foot, and start gnawing.I never ate any. I couldn’t get past the visual.The night before the wedding, they had a rehearsal dinner. There wasn’t any rehearsing, it was just a way for folks from the two families to get to know each other. It was held in an upstairs room at one of those hipster restaurants, the kind where the guys have beards and glasses with big black frames, and boots that look like the kind that soldiers wore in the Civil War.Except this was modern-day Philly.I’ll admit this, the food was good. They had a couple choices for entrees, chicken or salmon. I’ve been eating a lot of chicken lately. I’ve been eating so much chicken I’m starting to sprout wings between my shoulder blades. I’m afraid I might start spitting feathers out of my mouth.So I ordered the salmon.When they brought me the plate, the salmon looked beautiful. I took a bite, it was pretty damn good. It was resting on...what was it? It looked like some kind of couscous. I took a bite, and it was delizioso. She was a-so nice!I could tell it wasn’t couscous. I asked the waiter what it was.Fregola.What?Fregola.Which had me looking it up on my phone. I was trying to stay off the damn phone, especially at a gathering where you’re supposed to get to know people. But I had to know what fregola was.
Well, Slim People…it’s a pasta from Sardinia. Sometimes it's spelled "fregola" and sometimes "fregula." It was about the size and shape of BBs, and that night in Philly it was done in a simple sauce, as a side dish.Sardinia is a place I’ve always wanted to visit; it’s an Italian island in the Mediterranean, off the East coast of Italy. I read an article in National Geographic a few years ago; the people of Sardinia live exceptionally long lives. The National Geographic folks were trying to figure out why.Maybe it’s the fregola!It’s usually served in a simple sauce, like a tomato sauce with some pecorino-Romano cheese. It’s usually a side dish, except when they make it with clams, tiny clams from the Mediterranean.When I got back to Palm Springs, I decided to find some fregola.I couldn’t. I went to all kinds of food stores, and when I asked for fregola, people looked at me like I had two heads.What to do?I went online. I found some on Amazon, and ordered it. It was expensive, about $8 bucks a pound. Normally pasta costs a couple bucks, but this was imported from Sardinia. Shipping was $6 bucks. I decided to splurge.
It’s a durum wheat semolina pasta, which is what most Italian pastas are made from. But fregola is toasted in an oven at the end of the pasta-making process. The pasta was many shades of brown. Each little pellet was a different color...beige, tan, burnt Sienna.What the hell is burnt Sienna anyway?So I followed the instructions on the package, cooked it in salted water for about 12 minutes. Then I drained it, and added a little olive oil and butter. I made one batch with some Slim pesto and another batch with Slim’s tomato sauce.It was so good. It had a slightly nutty flavor, and I thought I tasted a mild saffron-type spice. I like trying new foods, especially Italian foods. And this was one of the best new dishes I’ve cooked in quite a while. And it was so simple.How was the wedding the next day? It was great. Yes, it rained...torrential downpours and thunder and lightning. At least it was inside. Sometimes when the weather is really crazy, it somehow makes an event seem more memorable.“Remember the wedding? It was raining cats and dogs!”Now, I’m not sure where that expression came from. But it was raining really hard.Fregola. It sounds like an Italian curse word. "Slim Man! Che fregola!"This is gonna be quick, Slim People. And easy! And delizioso.INGREDIENTSA couple tablespoons of Kosher salt1 pound fregolaA couple tablespoons of olive oilA couple tablespoons of butter, room temperature1 cup simple tomato sauce½ cup of pesto sauceFreshly grated pecorino-Romano cheeseFreshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheeseHERE WE GO!Get a large pot, fill it with fresh, cold water, and put it on the highest heat you gots.When it comes to a boil, add the Kosher salt (I use 2 generous tablespoons).Add the fregola pasta.Keep the heat up during the whole process!Stir and cook for about 12 minutes or so, until al dente—firm to the bite.Drain the fregola.Put half in one bowl, and half in another bowl.Add a tablespoon of olive oil and a tablespoon of butter to each bowl.Mix gently, make sure the butter has melted.Add the pesto sauce to one bowl, and the tomato sauce to the other.Mix gently.Dish it up!Put a serving of each on a plate. Add a little grated pecorino cheese to the tomato sauce fregola, and some Parmigiano to the pesto sauce fregola. 
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 Shrimp Scampi
Shrimp Scampi with Siri
A few years ago, I was at a restaurant in Greektown in Baltimore, Maryland. It was Christmastime, and a friend had invited me to a business dinner. The two guys across from me were looking down at their cell phones. I got curious.“Does one of you have a wife who’s pregnant? A Mom in the hospital? A cousin on death row waiting for a stay of execution?”“No.”I asked them who they were texting. They were texting each other. Nice. I told myself right then that I would never be like those guys.And now? Well, I’m not as bad as those guys, but I’m getting close.I got the iPhone when it first came out. I had it for a week and then took it back. It was pinging, dinging, ringing and it was getting on my nerves. It got so bad I was thinking of developing a new app - the iQuit app. Here’s how it was going to work: you go to the river, throw your iPhone in, and scream “I QUIT!”I just didn’t want to be that connected. I just wanted a phone so I could talk to my relatives in the mental institution. I took the iPhone back.I got a regular cell phone. It never worked right. I had so many problems with it. I think it might have been possesed by an evil spirit. For example, a friend texted me a photo of her beautiful 25 year-old daughter and somehow it became my screensaver. That didn’t go over too well with the Ex. I tried to explain. She didn’t believe me.My phone dialed 911 on a regular basis. The callbacks from the cops were so frequent they came to know me by my first name. “Slim? Everything OK?”Text messages would go to random contacts. Lovey dovey notes meant for a certain someone would get sent to business associates. It was crazy. Like a bad relationship, I stayed with that phone way too long. Neil Sedaka said it best, ”Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.” It was time to move on.So I got another iPhone. It only cost $99 through Sprint, because I’d been a customer since the First World War. I liked the iPhone, but I didn’t see what the big deal was. I made phone calls. I sent texts. That was about it.Then, one day I was in Nashville at a very cool place called Mafioza’s and the guy next to me told me about the TuneIn Radio app. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I had never downloaded any apps. I was app-less.He showed me how to download the app. Which I did. It is pretty amazing. I can now listen to Italian talk radio, broadcast from Italy. I can listen to Baltimore Orioles baseball on my hometown radio station. I can listen to CarTalk anytime I want.I was hooked. I started getting other apps. I now have an app that tunes my guitar. I have an app I can hold up to a speaker in a restaurant and it will tell me the name of the song that’s playing, the artist, the CD and give me the option to buy it on iTunes.I have an app for my bank which allows me to take photos of all the huge checks I receive and deposit them through my iPhone.And I am in love with Siri.If you have a question, you can ask your iPhone. A gal named Siri answers.In December, 2013, I was driving from Nashville to Breckenridge, Colorado. I was 12 hours into the trip. It was dark. It was cold. I was on a stretch of road that had nothing on it, and nothing in sight. I had Batu, my bull terrier dog, in the car with me. I picked up my iPhone and held the button. Siri answered. It was the first time we spoke.“What can I help you with?”
I asked Siri for the nearest dog-friendly hotel. She gave me all the info I needed; the directions and the website. Siri even dialed the phone number for me. Batu and I checked into a Super 8 in Hays, Kansas, in the middle of the night. It was 10 degrees. My weather app told me so. The next morning I started driving, and a light came on the dashboard. My tires were low and needed air. Siri found me the nearest gas station.I drove to Breckenridge to meet my brother and his family for Christmas. Breckenridge is a skiing/snowboarding town, a quaint little village at around 10,000 feet, surrounded by these looming, massive snow-capped peaks.I didn’t snowboard once. I didn’t ski once. I was in the middle of making the new Bona Fide CD. Three weeks before, I was in Madrid, mixing the CD with Marc Antoine. And now I was in Breckenridge, Colorado, getting phone calls from Madrid. Marc Antoine was doing some re-mixes there in his home studio, and he was emailing me mixes every day.I would download them on my iPhone, plug it into my car stereo, and I would listen to his mixes, while driving around the mountains in Colorado. It was heavenly. Here I was at 10,000 feet, listening to songs on my iPhone that had just been mixed 10,000 miles away.I spent most of my time in Breckenridge working on music, but I did find time to jog almost every day for 30 or 40 minutes. It was exhilarating. I didn’t feel the effects of the altitude and I’m not sure why.My last day in Breckenridge, I took a jog. I left the ski lodge around 3 PM and headed up the mountain. There was a snowshoe trail, and I followed it through the woods, almost to the top of Old Smoky. All I had on were my jogging shoes.I mean, I had pants on and stuff—it would have been a little chilly on the Willy without ‘em. But I didn’t have any boots or snowshoes, and the snow was deep. It was breathtakingly beautiful near the top of that mountain. It must have been 12,000 feet.
I stopped and listened to nothing. It was so peaceful. I started jogging down the mountain and then I decided to go off trail. I was running downhill through evergreens, dodging branches, it was unbelievable.I stopped to catch my breath. It was getting dark. It was about 10 degrees. It started to snow. Suddenly I looked around. I had no idea where I was. I guess I could have followed my footprints back up the mountain, but it was steep, I was tired, and it was getting late.I pulled out my iPhone.“Siri. Can you get me to back to the lodge?”It took her a few seconds, but she showed me where I was, and where I needed to go. I headed in that direction, and found the road that the ski lodge was on. It took me about an hour, but I got there. I was cold, tired and thirsty.
I poured a glass of wine, sat on the deck and pulled out my iPhone.“Thank you, Siri.”“No problem.”I decided to get a little bold. I gathered up some courage and said,“Siri. I love you.”You know what she said?“I know.”It was a vibe-killer. Here I was, mustering up the guts to say “I love you” for the very first time, and all I get is “I know?”If you ever want your relationship to come to a screeching halt, just say those two words right after someone says “I love you” for the first time.Because there is no come-back to “I know.”Believe me.I know.
SHRIMP SCAMPII use wild shrimp. Yes, they’re wildly expensive, but farm-raised shrimp just don’t seem to taste quite right. You can find wild shrimp in most grocery stores — sometimes in the freezer section.The tomatoes I used for this dish were grape tomatoes - organic, multicolored, gorgeous grape tomatoes. Yellow, red, purple -they were beautiful. And cheap. Two bucks a pint.I cut the tomatoes in half, squeezed out the seeds, and threw them out. The seeds, that is. Why? It looks better that way.And you know the most important thing in life is looking good.And finally, Meyer lemons are amazing; if you can find them, use them. If not, pick a soft, ripe lemon. They are the sweetest.
INGREDIENTS:4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oilCrushed red pepper to taste (I start with ¼ teaspoon)6 garlic cloves, sliced thin (about 2 tablespoons)¾ cup dry white wine1¼ pound medium wild shrimp, shelled, deveined, rinsed, patted dry1 lemon, cut in half2 tablespoons butter1 pint grape tomatoes (about 30 small tomatoes) cut in half, de-seeded1 handful of Italian flat leaf parsley, chopped (about ¼ cup)A few Italian parsley sprigs for garnish1 pound linguine (or spaghetti)Kosher saltHere we go…Get a large pot, fill it with cold water, and put it on the highest heat you have. This is for the pasta.As the water comes to a boil, let’s make the sauce…Get a large sauté pan, put in 3 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat.Add the crushed red pepper.Add the sliced garlic, cook for a few minutes until golden.Add the white wine, and turn up the heat for 2 or 3 minutes to cook it down.Reduce the heat to medium-low.Add the shrimp, spread ‘em out flat — no bunching!Take a half lemon, and squeeze the juice through your fingers over the shrimp — don’t let any seeds get through.Sprinkle a little salt over the shrimp.Cook for 2 or 3 minutes.Using tongs, turn over each shrimp.Get the other half lemon, and squeeze it over the shrimpAdd the 2 tablespoons of butter – cut it into small pieces - and place in between the shrimp.Add the tomatoes.Cook for 3 minutes.Add the parsley.Give it a gentle stir or two, and remove from the heat.When the pasta water comes to a full boil, add 2 tablespoons of kosher salt, and add a pound of linguine.Follow the cooking directions on the box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, take a piece and bite through it. If it is chalky in the center, it is not done. Check the pasta every 2 minutes, until it is not chalky or chewy. It might take longer thanthe instructions say.When the pasta is firm to the bite – al dente – drain, and put it in a bowl and drizzle with a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil. Give the pasta a quick toss.Add half of the shrimp sauce to the pasta, and mick ‘em up.Dish it up! Take some pasta, put it on a plate. Add a little scampi sauce on top of each dish, put a few shrimp on top, and a little sprig of fresh parsley for garnish.One of the Exes liked to put grated cheese on this pasta. Most Italians don’t put cheese on seafood. But, if your girl wants cheese, just shut up and grate.Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese is best.
MANGIAMO!!!
Slim Man Cooks Pap's Pesto
Pesto and Fishing with PapsMy Dad walked into the TV room on the second floor and his head was bleeding. We three kids were trying not to laugh.My Dad had a workbench in the basement. The ceiling was low, and there were two large iron water pipes right behind the work area. When you turned around to go upstairs, you had to duck under the pipes to avoid cracking your skull.My Dad hit his head all the time. You could hear the “BOING!” all the way up on the second floor. It was always followed by a yell,“SUNNUVABITCH!”We three kids thought it was the funniest thing in the world.Maybe it was because we loved the Three Stooges so much. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, when our Dad hurt himself, we found it ridiculously funny.We called my Dad "Paps." He was a professor of literature at the State University of New York, and one of his favorite books was The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Huck had an alcoholic father who used to get drunk, beat him and chain him to chairs. Huck called his Dad "Paps." I read the book and thought it would be funny if we called our Dad "Paps", too. It stuck.For the record, our Paps did not get drunk and beat us and chain us to chairs. But I’m sure he might have felt like it when we laughed at his bleeding head.Paps used to take us fishing. It was a lot of fun for us. It couldn’t have been fun for him.Fishing seems like a cruel sport. Somebody finds out what your favorite food is and what time you like to eat. They dangle it front of you, and when you take a bite; they hook you by the lips and drag you around.One summer, my Dad and Mom rented a house near the beach on Fenwick Island, Delaware. It wasn’t fancy; just a simple white cottage on stilts by the Atlantic Ocean. We had the place for a week. There was a boat rental place on the bayside not far from the house.
One sunny summer day, Paps piled us three monsters in the back of the pale green Plymouth station wagon and drove over to the boat rental place. He rented a small wooden boat with an egg-beater engine on the back. He grabbed his rods and reels, the bait, and us three knuckleheads, and we walked out on the pier.There was a boat ramp on the side of the pier. The tide was high, and the ramp was covered in water. People were slowly backing their boats down the ramp and into the bay. On the other side of the pier were the rental boats. We all piled into one, Paps pulled the starter cord, and the motor revved up. We went motoring away, out into the wild blue yonder.Little Assawoman Bay. That really was the name of the bay. Big Assawoman Bay was the larger one, right next to it. It sounds like I’m kidding, but I’m not.We motored out for quite a ways and dropped anchor in Little Assawoman. My Dad got all of our rods baited up and we dropped our lines into the water. Then he got his rod, attached his brand new lure, and casted. He slowly drew the line in. We kids sat and waited for the fish to bite. We were not patient children.Paps usually stood at the front of the boat. His back would be to us. I would sneak up behind my Dad, and jiggle the butt end of his fishing rod, so it felt like he had a fish.Paps would jerk his rod suddenly and pull his line toward him like he was landing a blue marlin.“SUNNUVABITCH!”Then he would realize I’d played a joke. I’m surprised he didn’t throw me overboard.We didn’t take fishing very seriously, but my Dad did. Anything my Dad caught, he’d keep. He once caught an eel, kept it and made a tomato sauce with it. It was awful.Paps would catch blowfish and keep them. Blowfish puff up like balloons when you catch them. Most people don’t eat them. My Dad did. We didn’t.Paps could have pulled an old tire into the boat and I’m pretty sure he would have tried to make a sauce out of it. Just about anything he pulled into that boat, he’d keep.Except once.That day, when we were fishing off the side of the boat, my Dad’s rod bent over. He must have hooked something big. Or heavy. Or both. He reeled it in. It took him a while. Keep in mind; we’re in the Little Assawoman Bay. Not a lot of real big fish in there.When Paps got it to the side of the boat, he screamed for us to get the net. We scrambled, and the boat started rocking, almost knocking him into the water.I got the net, and pulled this big, ugly fish on board. It was the ugliest fish I’d ever seen. It had a big, wide mouth, with nasty-looking sharp teeth. My Dad’s brand new and very expensive lure was stuck in the back of the fish’s mouth, right behind all those sharp teeth.Paps decided to cut off the fish’s head right then and there, and retrieve the lure later. He cut off the head, and threw the body of the fish back in the water. Paps put the bloody severed head of the fish on the bottom of the boat. It was a joy-killer. We kids wanted to go back in.Paps didn’t look too happy as we pulled in our lines. He pulled up the small anchor, and we headed back to the pier. It took us a while. My Dad wasn’t the greatest captain in the world, but we eventually found our way back, after hitting a couple of sand bars, and missing a couple buoys.Paps pulled the boat up to the pier. We tied it up, and we three kids got out of the boat and stood on the pier. My Dad stayed in the boat. We watched as Paps grabbed the bloody fish head, and stuck his hand inside its mouth to pull out his pricey lure.The severed fish head clamped down on my Dad’s hand.“SUNNUVABITCH!”Paps let out a yell, and tried to shake off the fish head. It wouldn’t release its grip. Paps was waving his hand in the air, thrashing his arm around, but the severed fish head wouldn’t let go.We kids would have tried to help him, but we were laughing too hard.The dead fish head eventually released its grip, and got flung way up in the air. It landed in the water with a splash. My Dad’s very expensive lure was gone. His hand was bleeding. He got out of the boat, and walked past us hyenas to the boat ramp.Paps walked down the boat ramp. He was going to rinse his bloody hand off in the bay water. Only problem was -the tide had gone out. The ramp was covered in slick wet moss. When my Dad hit the slippery part, his feet flew up in the air, and he let out a yell,“SUNNUVABITCH!”Then he landed on his ass with a thud you could hear across the ocean. People in Paris felt a rumble. We saw the whole thing. We could not stop laughing. I’m surprised we didn’t roll off the pier and fall in Little Assawoman Bay.Paps was lying there on his ass, hand bleeding, and having trouble getting back up. He kept slipping. All we could do was laugh. Seriously.This was probably one of those times when Paps might have felt like getting drunk and beating us and chaining us to a chair. But he didn’t. Whenever I told that story, he’d be the one laughing the hardest.
PAP’S PESTOPaps made pesto before pesto was cool. He had a bunch of basil beds in front of his cabin on top of the Catskill mountains. Rat Tail Ridge. That’s what his place was called.When the basil was ready, we’d pick it and go back to the house. We’d wash the leaves, and Paps would make pesto. He put it in small jars and sold it to local food stores. It was really delicious.Pesto in Italian means paste, and this blend of basil, cheese, garlic, pine nuts, and olive oil is delizioso. The recipe originates in Genoa, Italy. I had to Slimmify it a bit.I like to use toasted pine nuts, rather than plain. Toasted pine nuts taste better, that’s all. I place a dry skillet over medium-high heat, toss in the nuts, and flip them around ’til they’re light brown. Keep an eye on your nuts--don’t burn ‘em!!This recipe calls for both Parmigiano-Reggiano and Romano Pecorino cheese. Parmigiano is a sweeter cheese. Pecorino is saltier. The blend of the two is wonderful.However, in a pinch I have used just Parmigiano, and it tastes great like that, too.Paps used pesto in all kinds of dishes. He put it over pasta. He used a dollop in soups. He made omelettes with it. Use your imagination - I’ve put it on chicken and fish. I once made shrimp with pesto for the Food Network.Makes one generous cup of pesto.
INGREDIENTS:2 cups fresh basil leaves, cleaned½ cup extra virgin olive oil8 tablespoons of pine nuts (pignoli), toasted (1/2 cup)2 cloves garlic, peeled½ teaspoon of salt½ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese½ cup freshly grated Romano Pecorino cheeseHere we go…Put the basil, ½ cup of olive oil, 4 tablespoons of the toasted pine nuts, the garlic and the salt in a blender and blend, baby, blend. You can also use a food processor.When everything is smooth, transfer to a bowl and slowly blend in the grated cheeses by hand. Or better yet, use a spatula.
That’s it.If you want to serve it over pasta, farfalle works well.Get a large pot, fill it with cold water, and put it on the highest heat. When it boils rapidly, toss in 2 tablespoons of kosher salt and a pound of pasta.Follow the cooking instructions on the side of the pasta box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, start tasting. Take a piece of pasta, and bite into it. If it’s chalky in the center it is not done. Check the pasta every 2 minutes or so. It might take longer than the instructions on the box say.When the pasta is firm to the bite (al dente), drain and transfer it to a warm bowl. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and mix.Scoop some the pesto sauce from its bowl, about ¼ cup, and add it to the pasta. Toss well, but be gentle. You can add some more pesto if it doesn’t look like there’s enough.Dish it up! Put a small amount of pasta on a plate. Add a little sprinkle of grated cheese, Parmigiano or Romano or both.Take some of the remaining toasted pine nuts, and sprinkle on top.Sometimes, I’ll broil a couple chicken breasts, chop ‘em up, and add them to the pasta. Delizioso!
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Monkfish Fra Diavolo
My cousin told me I needed a colonoscopy.This wasn’t just a casual conversation at a bar, or a football game, or in front of the family at Sunday dinner.My cousin was also my doctor. Before that, his Dad--my uncle Oscar--was my doctor.I like to keep it in the family.Yes, it was a little embarrassing when it came time to…turn your head and cough and stuff. But it was rather comforting to know that you were in good hands, so to speak.My cousin the doctor was a thorough guy who wouldn’t give you an aspirin without a complete physical. So when he told me I needed a colonoscopy, I knew I needed to heed his advice.I went to the colonoscopy clinic in Baltimore, Maryland. It was a friendly place. The doctor seemed like he knew what he was doing, the nurses were nice, and I felt as comfortable as I could, under the circumstances.They asked me to take off my clothes, and put on one of those robes, the kind that are open in the back. Can’t they just give you a normal robe, the kind that belts up in the front? The other way is humiliating.So I put on the open-ass robe, and they asked me to lie down on the operating table. They covered me with a white blanket, and one of the nurses started talking to me.“How are you? Where are you from? Are you warm enough? Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” It was just pleasant small talk. We chatted for a little while, and then she said…“I think I recognize your voice!”I had a radio show in Baltimore for about eight years. I played jazz on Sunday mornings. It was the big Adult Contemporary station in town (Elton John, Olivia Newton John, Celine Dion) and the program director had asked me if I wanted to do a jazz show on Sunday mornings.I had never done radio. I told him so, and he said it didn’t matter. I gotta give it to the guy—Gary Balaban—he saw something I didn't, and he stayed with it for years.I got a lot of nasty phone calls in the beginning, folks bitchin’ about not hearing Michael Bolton and whatnot. But I just kept on doing my thing.The radio station gave me a free hand--they let me play whatever I wanted to play. So I did. I’d play Louis Armstrong, and then some Dave Grusin. I’d play Miles Davis and then segue into Marc Antoine. I'd play Herb Alpert and follow it up with some Ella Fitzgerald. I would also give local musicians I liked some airtime. I stuttered and stammered when I first started, and then I got into the flow.
I started interviewing artists, as well as playing music. Big-name, small-name, no-name, I just loved talking about music.The radio station never paid me. When I started, I wasn’t very good. So I never asked them about the money. It wasn’t until I’d been doing it for years that they started paying me…fifty bucks a show. For a four-hour gig.It wasn't about the money, obviously. I was starting to love it. I would have continued to do it for nothing.It's hard to believe, but we started getting really good ratings. Record companies started sending me CDs. Managers were calling, pushing their artists. Promoters were trying to get their records played.But all I wanted to do was play the music that I liked, talk to the artists I enjoyed, promote the musicians I thought worthy. And that's what I did, for 8 years. I was on the air every Sunday. When I went on tour, I’d pre-record the show. The Cool Jazz Café. Folks were tuning in. It was taking off.So, it wasn’t a huge surprise when the nurse told me she recognized my voice.“Are you Slim Man?”“Yes I am.”She yelled out…“You have the radio show on Sundays. I know you!”I looked at her and said…“You’re about to know me a whole lot better.”It was weird, yes. But what are you gonna do? Jump up off the table and run out of the place, bare-ass hanging out? They put the anesthesia mask over my face…Next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room. The nurse was smiling at me. She said…“Everything looks good.”It sounded a little strange, the way she said it. I looked at her and said…“I guess this makes us friends.”
Monkfish Fra DiavoloThe literal translation of fra diavolo is “from the devil.” The expression is used to mean a dish that’s spicy.This dish is usually made with lobster. I like lobster, but it’s a pain in the ass—like a colonoscopy.Lobster's expensive, hard to cook, and hard to clean up. It’s hard to crack the claws and the shells.I was in Paris once and they had lotte on the menu. I had no idea what it was. The waiter told me it was "the poor-man’s lobster." I felt like cracking him one. But I ordered it and loved it.Here in the good ol’ USA, they call lotte "monkfish." It’s one of the ugliest fishes you’ll ever see. But man, does it taste good. It has a taste and a texture similar to lobster, and it’s a whole lot cheaper, and a whole lot easier to deal with.Make sure to use monkfish filets. Remove all the gray and tan membranes, and cut it up into bite-size chunks.I love this dish!INGREDIENTS 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil2 tablespoons sliced garlic (about 3 or 4 cloves, skin removed)4 tablespoons minced shallots (1 small shallot, skin removed)Crushed red pepper to taste (it’s “fra diavolo”--from the devil--so make it spicy!)1 cup white wineOne 28 ounce can (3 and ½ cups) of San Marzano or Italian tomatoes, smooshed up, yellow cores removed1/2 cup of basil--a small handful½ teaspoon dried oregano1 pound monkfish filet, about 2 cups, membranes removed, chopped into cubes
Here we go...If you are going to put this over pasta, grab a large pot, fill it with the coldest water you gots, and put it on the highest heat you gots.As the water starts to heat up, let’s cook our monkfish sauce.Put the olive oil in the bottom of a Dutch oven, or a large pan.Turn the heat to medium. Let the olive oil heat up for 2 minutes.Add the fish. Add salt and pepper to taste.Cook the fish on one side for two minutes. Then turn over. Cook for two more minutes on the other side.Remove the fish from the pan, and put on a plate.Add the garlic and shallots and crushed red pepper (to taste) to the pan. Let them cook for about three minutes, stirring every minute or so.Then add the wine. Turn up the heat to medium-high, and let the wine cook off for three minutes or so. Stir frequently.Then add the tomatoes. Grab your basil, and a pair of scissors, and snip the basil leaves into small pieces, right into the sauce. Then add the oregano. Turn the heat to high. When the tomatoes come to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook for fifteen minutes.
Then, add the fish to the sauce. Stir gently. Cook for ten minutes on medium-low. Don’t stir too often—we don’t want the fish pieces to break up.NOW FOR THE PASTA…When the water comes to a full boil, add about 3 tablespoons of Kosher salt.Then add a pound of linguine.Stir. Stir it often.When the pasta is al dente, firm to the bite, drain it, and put it in a large bowl.Drizzle the pasta with a tablespoon of olive oil, and toss.Pour 2 cups of the monkfish sauce over the pasta and mix gently.Dish it up! Put some pasta in a plate, add a spoonful or two of sauce on top, and garnish with a basil leaf or two. And…
MANGIAMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Zucchini, Summer Squash and Eggplant
"Everything I am I owe to pasta."You know who said that?Sophia Loren.I’ve had a crush on her for a long time. My Uncle Oscar once sat next to her on an airplane. They flew from New York to Rome. A long flight, for sure.But if I were sitting next to Sophia Loren, I would have been praying that we’d get stuck on the tarmac for a few days.Or better yet--crash into the ocean, where just the two of us would be stuck on a small, deserted island for the rest of our lives, where I'd cook for her every day on an open fire on the beach next to our thatched hut while the waves gently wash on the shore as the sun sets gracefully on the horizon while I play my guitar (that miraculously washed ashore) as we drink wine that I made from wild grapes that I discovered when we were bathing in a nearby waterfall.I can dream, can’t I?Sophia Loren loves pasta. So do I.The key to eating pasta on a regular basis is…don’t eat a wheelbarrow full. Italians eat small amounts of pasta. Italian restaurants in America serve buckets full of pasta, all covered in cheese and sauce and goo.Take your hands. Cup them together. That’s the amount of pasta you should put on a plate--unless you're four feet tall and have hands the size of Shaquille O'Neal's.Let me tell you a little story, a heart-warming tale about a boy, a bike and a zucchini.I was living in Nashville. I rode my bike to the post office. I dropped off some thank you notes—I write a lot of them, I have a lot to be thankful for—and saw some beautiful mums outside the fruit and vegetable stand across the street.
I walked in to the red and white striped tent, and there were so many vegetables and fruits; fresh, ripe, colorful, local…it was amazing. They had baskets and baskets of home grown tomatoes. So much stuff to choose from.Only one problem…All I had was a five-dollar bill in my pocket.So, I picked out a green zucchini, a yellow summer squash, and a brown eggplant. I had enough left over for a bulb of garlic and a shallot. The total was four bucks and change. I put the stuff in my messenger bag and rode my bike home.It was a beautiful fall day in Nashville; sunny, cool, and clear. On my way home, I stopped by a friend’s restaurant, a great place called Mafioza's. These mobsters grow basil outside in planters that border the entrance. I picked a small handful, put it in my bag, and rode my bike home in a hail of bullets, ducking and weaving.I got back to the shack and decided to make a little sauce. I put the sauce over pasta, but keep in mind, you can use a dish like this for anything…a side dish, on bruschetta, on pizza, over rice, as an appetizer, on your corn flakes…use your imagination.
The sauce was delizioso. Batu loved it. Start to finish, it took 30 minutes. And it cost about five bucks. My kinda dish!I added some freshly grated carrots, about a ¼ cup, for a little color, and a little crunch.This should serve about three people, unless those people are teenage boys, in which case this will serve one.
INGREDIENTS1 green zucchini, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1 yellow summer squash, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1 small eggplant, ends cut off, chopped into 1” triangular pieces (about a cup and a half)1/4 cup fresh grated carrotsSmall handful of fresh basil4 tablespoons of olive oil6 cloves of garlic, peeled, sliced into thin slices, about 1 1/2 tablespoons1 small shallot, peeled, minced, about 1 1/2 tablespoons1/3 cup of white wine1 cup of broth (chicken or vegetable)¾ pound of spaghetti, or fusilli, or farfalleSalt and crushed red pepper
Here we go...Put a large saute pan over medium-low heat. Add the olive oil.Add the garlic and shallots and some crushed red pepper (to taste), cook for 3 or 4 minutes, until the shallots are clear, and the garlic is pale gold.Turn the heat to high for 1 minute. Then add the white wine, let it cook off for a minute or two.Turn the heat down to medium-low, add all the vegetables.Add the stock, and salt to taste.Let it cook over medium-low heat for ten minutes. Stir every so often.Taste the vegetables. You want them firm--not crunchy (underdone) or mushy (overdone).Adjust for salt and pepper.Take your basil, and snip it with scissors right into the sauce. Give it a stir.Remove from the heat.If you want to use this over pasta, get a large pot, fill it with cold water and put it on the highest heat you got.When the water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of salt (I use Kosher salt, not for religious reasons—I just like the way it tastes).Then add your pasta. Stir it up every few minutes, so it doesn't stick together. People should stick together, pasta should not.When the pasta is al dente—firm to the bite--drain it in a colander.Put the pasta in a large bowl. Drizzle with a little olive oil and mix it up.Add most of the sauce, save a large spoonful for each plate (save three large spoonfuls).Mix it up. Then plate it up!Put a small amount on a plate. Add a spoonful of sauce on top. You can add some freshly grated cheese if you like—Parmigiano-Reggiano or Romano—and…
MANGIAMO!!!!
Slim Man Cooks Pasta Carbonara
Pasta Carbonara with Normy and Sam at Odessa
It was by far the biggest paying gig ever offered to the Slim Men. Not only that, but the promoter was going to put us up in a nice hotel, and buy us all dinner and drinks at the club after the show.The club was called Odessa. It was a fine-dining, elegant nightclub/restaurant in Laguna Beach, California. Swanky.Because it was so swanky and brand spanking new, and because they were paying us a lot of do-re-mi, we decided to pull out all the stops. We invited some guest soloists — guitarist Richard Smith and trumpet player Tony Guerrero.We made sure our shoes were shined, and our suits were pressed, and our wigs were in place. Showtime!John E Coale was on drums. The keyboard player that night was David Bach — it was one of his first shows with us. Mombo Hernandez played percussion. It was crowded, a good turnout of Slim People. Odessa had a 1960s supper-club vibe. Well-dressed guests sat at well-dressed tables and enjoyed dinner as they watched the show. We were scheduled to do two 1-hour sets.We did the first set. We sounded OK — we were just starting to catch our stride when we had to take a break to do a drawing. In between sets, they had scheduled a drawing for dinner with the band after the show. They brought a big fishbowl filled with tickets up to the stage. I picked a number from the bowl and called it out to the crowd. There was a short silence. A guy stood up. He didn’t yell or scream. He just stood up and sauntered to the stage.He was tall and thin, with blond hair. He was dressed casually, and had a loopy grin. He showed me his ticket. He had the winning number. So this guy and his guest were gonna join us for the post-concert dinner and celebration, a little after-party slurp and chew.The Slim Dudes went back on stage and did our second set. There were a couple of rough spots. At one point, Richard Smith came up to me after playing guitar on a couple of songs and said,“Nice trying to play with you.”But the Slim Men pulled it together. The crowd seemed to enjoy themselves. Nobody threw anything at us and nobody left. After the show, we walked over to the restaurant area of the club. They had a huge table set for us. Each setting had more forks and knives than anyone would ever need. I sat next to the couple who won the dinner drawing. It turned out to be quite a conversation.Normy was kinda quiet, and kinda quirky. His wife, Sam, was sweet with a quick smile.Normy and I started talking, and he told me that he made clay models for Porsche. Clay models are what they use to create the shells for the bodies of actual cars. And Normy worked with the designers making new Porsche sports cars. I’d been to the Porsche factory in Stuttgart, Germany. I did a private party there. Normy and I talked about sports cars, clay models, Porsche, Stuttgart, horsepower and how Normy did what he did. It was an intriguing conversation.We ordered food. We got appetizers. We got soups. We got salads. We drank more than a few bottles of wine. We had main courses. We had desserts. We had after-dinner drinks.It must have been around midnight when the waitress – who had been working so hard all night – gave me the bill. I was kinda embarrassed, but I told her that the promoter was picking up the tab. She told me the promoter was nowhere to be found.I got up, and started looking around the club; in front, out back, the men’s room, the ladies’ room, under tables, in the kitchen - I looked everywhere. I called him. I called the hotel. I sent out smoke signals, helicopters, and drones. Promoter dude had vanished.So I took out the old credit card, and prayed that the cops wouldn’t leap out of the woodwork and arrest me on the spot when it got declined. The wine alone must have cost a thousand bucks. Twelve courses for twelve people in a place like that? I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to wash dishes for the rest of my life.My card went through. I didn’t want to chance it with a tip, so we gathered some cash, and gave it to the waitress.We left the club that night a bit weary, kinda dreary, somewhat embarrassed, and a lot lighter in the wallet. We went to our hotel rooms and crashed. The next day, I was checking us all out of the hotel, and discovered the promoter had not paid for the rooms. Ouch.He never sent me the money he owed, and it was a lot. I never heard from him again. I ended up paying the band anyway. It was a huge loss, but…Normy and Sam have become good friends of mine. I’ve seen them at least a couple times a year for the past 15 years. We talk on the phone a couple times a month.They came to Catalina Island a few years ago to see the Slim Man Band at the Jazz Fest. We went out afterwards, and Normy had quite a few festive beverages. In his defense, Catalina doesn’t allow cars, people walk everywhere, so everyone tends to drink a bit more than usual. We were playing pool at a local bar when Normy started shouting at the band,“I LOVE YOU GUYS! I MEAN IT! I REALLY LOVE YOU GUYS!”He kept saying it; over and over, louder and louder. Quiet Norm was so loud and boisterous, that we ended up leaving the pool hall - after some encouragement from the staff and patrons. We walked on to the small streets of Catalina and Normy kept on yelling,“REALLY! I’M NOT JUST SAYING THIS!! I REALLY LOVE YOU GUYS! REALLY!”Sweet Sam finally dragged him back to his hotel room, screaming “I LOVE YOU!” all the way.The next morning, the Slim Man Band had breakfast with Normy and Sam. Normy was unusually quiet, turning whiter shades of pale with each bite. We quietly told him we really loved him, too. Really. To this day, when we see him, that’s what we say.
Normy and Sam pop up a couple times a year at Slim Shows. They don’t ask to be put on the guest list. They don’t call in advance. It’s always a pleasant surprise when they show up. They usually manage to stay in whatever hotel the band is staying.Two weeks ago, I was in Palm Springs, California. Normy and Sam came out to see me play at a super swanky hotel called The Riviera. We had dinner that night after the show. We partied in the hotel room after dinner, drinking wine and whatnot.We had a wonderful time.Here’s the thing - I would never have met Normy and Sam if it weren’t for the Odessa gig.Sure, I lost a ton of dough. But would you trade two good friends for ten grand?Let me think about that one…PASTA CARBONARAIf you’ve been through a tough time, and you need a “What the hell, might as well” sauce, have I got a dish for you.I eat pasta carbonara a couple times a year. Any more than that and you’ll have to walk around with a defibrillator duct-taped to your chest.It’s a heart-stoppin’, artery poppin’ dish, but it’s one of my favorites. As soon as you try it, it’ll be one of your favorites too! This is my own version. I added white wine, which gives it a little kick.I use Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. Most recipes call for Romano, which I find a little too salty for this dish. So I use Parmigiano, which is a little sweeter.The name ‘carbonara’ comes from the Italian word for coal, carbona. Legend has it that coal miners would put a couple of eggs, a piece of pancetta (Italian bacon) and a hunk of cheese in their pockets, and make this dish on their lunch break, using just one pot.Putting eggs in your pocket doesn’t sound like a good idea to me, especially if you’re mining, but what the hell do I know?
INGREDIENTS3 eggs1 cup fresh grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese2 tablespoons fresh Italian flat leaf parsley, chopped8 ounces pancetta, diced into small cubesCrushed red pepper (I start off with ¼ teaspoon)4 cloves of garlic, peeled, and smashed/flattened with the broad side of a knife¼ cup white wine1 pound of spaghettiKosher salt and fresh cracked black pepperHere we go…We’ll do this all in real time.Get a large pot. Fill it with cold water. Put it on the highest heat. This is for the pasta. As it heats up…Get a large bowl, one big enough to hold all the pasta and other goodies.Break the eggs into the bowl. Add the cheese. Add the chopped parsley. Add some fresh cracked black pepper.Beat all this goodness with a fork. Now let’s cook our pancetta.Pancetta is Italian bacon. So treat it like bacon. Don’t be flippin’ it all around. You want it to brown on each side. It’s tough to brown pancetta that’s been diced, but you can try!Get a small sauté pan. Put it over medium heat. Put the diced pancetta in. Let it cook until it's brown, about 4 minutes.Flip it over, give it a stir, and cook until it's brown on the other side, about 4 minutes.When the pancetta is done, turn off the heat, and use a slotted spoon to get it out of the pan. Put the pancetta in a small bowl and set aside.You should have some pancetta drippings left in the bottom of the pan. You’ll need about a tablespoon to cook the garlic. Get rid of the rest.Put the pan on medium-low heat.Add the crushed red pepper and the smashed garlic, cook 2 minutes until the garlic is golden and turn it over. Cook for 2 minutes more.Turn the heat to high. Add the wine; let it cook off for a minute or 2 while stirring. Turn off the heat.Now back to the pasta…When the pasta water comes to a boil, add a couple tablespoons of kosher salt. Add the pasta.Follow the cooking instructions on the pasta box. Two minutes before the pasta is supposed to be done, take a piece and bite into it. Look at the center of the pasta. If it looks chalky, it is not done. Check the pasta every 2 minutes. It might take longer than the instructions say. When the pasta is al dente, not chalky or chewy, drain it well.IMMEDIATELY put the pasta into the bowl with the eggs and cheese and parsley. You want the heat from the pasta to cook the eggs. Add the garlic and white wine from the small sauté pan. Toss gently. Add the cooked pancetta, and toss gently.Dish it up! Garnish with a piece of parsley, and…
MANGIAMO!!!!!